Of Bats and Birds
by Ashtree1165
Summary: A series of One-Shots focusing on Dick and Bruce over the years. Some more so one than the other. Suggestions for future chapters welcome.
1. Chapter 1: Meeting Superman

**Chapter 1**

**Meeting Superman  
>Dick age 9<strong>

When word of a brightly clad child running through Gotham along side the Batman reached the Daily Planet, not only was Clark Kent intrigued, but Superman as well. He hadn't spoken to Bruce in over a month. Batman, Superman had seen just yesterday, but Bruce Wayne was another story. And if it wasn't for his work load, he would have gotten around to visiting Jersey sooner.

It was nearly a month after the first sighting of Batman's new 'partner' before Clark had a day off work. It was roughly ten o'clock at night when Clark made it to Gotham City. His radiant uniform sticking out like a sore thumb in the pessimistic and gloomy city. As his feet touched down on the rooftop beneath him, he began scanning the surrounding rooftops for any sight of his old friend. It was a surprisingly easy task, what with the kid tailing the Dark Knight. The yellow underbelly of his cape flipping outward from the harsh beat of the wind. Thanks to the kid, a usually difficult task was suddenly made simple. Even for Superman, Batman was a tough adversary.

Clark smiled self satisfyingly, before soaring across the rooftops. Eager to talk with Bruce again and to meet this strange child.

He quickly landed before his fellow hero and League member. His cape twisting and pulling in the harsh Autumn wind. But it hardly fazed him. He kept his exuberant smile in place, truly happy to see his best friend for the first time in months.

"What are you doing here?" Bruce demanded, his voice cold and harsh. Nothing too unusual there.

If Clark didn't know any better, he'd think Bruce wasn't happy to see him. But being the All-American Boy Scout that he was, he managed to keep his grin firmly in place. "It almost feels like you don't want me here," he only half joked.

Bruce glared, "I don't. Now leave."

Clark's smile never wavered. "I thought I'd stop by and check on things. Word got to Metropolis not too long ago about your new sidekick here." Clark said, his gaze drifting from the Dark Knight to the red and green clad boy beside him.

The boy was small, but couldn't be any younger than eight. He came no higher than Bruce's hip, but somehow he managed to pull off both childish yet intimidating -in his own way.

Dick grinned up at the Man of Steel, and Clark couldn't help but return the smile. He didn't need x-ray vision to know that his eyes were sparkling behind his domino mask.

"And who are you?" Clark asked.

Dick bound forward, excitedly, until he was a foot or so in front of Superman, eyes wide with childlike wonder. "I'm Robin, Batman's partner, _not_ sidekick." He said, stressing the fact that they were, in fact, partners.

Clark gave a small laugh, crouching down the Dick's level. "It's very nice to meet you, I'm-"

"You're Superman!" Dick said proudly. He'd never met any of Bruce's friends, not super friends anyway. Just Lucius and a man named Oliver Queen at some boring charity ball. He didn't much care for that man though, he threw boring parties.

"Don't you have a city to be protecting?" Bruce grumbled, but apparently he'd become invisible and therefor ignored.

Clark gazed up at Bruce briefly, who stood a few feet behind Robin. Arms crossed and somehow looking both annoyed and indifferent.

Robin suddenly leapt up into a handstand. Looking up at the superhero from his upside down point of view. "Is it true you have, like, a billion powers? You can fly can't you?" Dick's exuberant attitude was almost contagious. "Are you an alien? How did you get to Earth? Where do you live? What's your day job? Do you really have a cave of ice? Have you ever-"

"Robin," Batman's low voice shut the boy up quite quickly. His tone leaving no room for arguments. Robin's ebony hair fell in his eyes as he rightened himself and turned to face his mentor, a pout firmly in place.

"I'm just curious."

"And I'm sure Superman would be more than happy to answer your questions, but right now we're busy. Remember?" Clark could swear he saw the man smile, if only slightly. Before giving Clark a cold Batglare.

Dick had the good graces to look abashed, almost apologetic even, for getting so off topic. They had a job to do and here he was playing 20 Questions with Superman. "Sorry." Dick suddenly turned on Superman, his eyes wide and tone businesslike. "It was very nice to meet you Mr. Superman, but we are on patrol and it would be best if you came back later if you would like to chat."

Clark blinked. "Um, okay."

Robin's grin stretched from ear to ear. "You will come back later won't you?" He asked so hopefully it would be murder to say no.

Clark just smiled. "Of course, I could stop by the Batcave later tonight if you'd like." He said, giving the small boy a knowing wink. As if to say he knew exactly who Batman was and could stop buy any time.

Dick nodded enthusiastically, before catching both Superman and Batman off guard by wrapping his arms tightly around the Man of Steel's middle. The hug was brief, and Robin soon released the older man and leapt back to his mentor's side. Flipping through the air exuberantly as he did so.

"He can stop buy can't he?" Dick asked Bruce, gazing up at him, his bright eyes hopeful.

Bruce hated that look, it was nearly impossible to say no to someone so young and innocent. But he knew how Dick had been dying to meet the Justice League, specifically Superman and the Flash. How could he take this away form him?

"I thought you wanted to work on the modifications for your suit?"

Dick didn't miss a beat, "Superman could help. Or we could just do it later, right?"

Bruce sighed, but relented. "Fine," he turned to Clark, "meet us at the cave in two hours."

Dick waved goodbye and leapt off the roof, shooting his grappling hook and latching onto the nearest rooftop and flying off into the night.

Clark's smile finally wavered, his gaze shifting to Bruce. "Uniform modifications?"

Batman shrugged, "it's a work in progress."

Clark nodded. "We need to talk about this, about Robin."

To this Bruce simply rolled his eyes, knowing Clark was very well using his gifts to see through the cowl. Bruce didn't need the Boy Scout's permission to bring his son on patrol. He was capable of taking care of him himself. And Richard wasn't exactly an average kid. He was born for this, and Bruce couldn't keep him form it even if he wanted to.

Bruce turned on his heels, shooting his Batclaw toward the nearest rooftop and soaring off after Robin. Leaving a confused Superman alone in the Gotham night.

Clark gnawed on his inner cheek thoughtfully. He had hoped for more of an actual conversation with the Dark Knight, but that clearly wasn't going to happen tonight. He figured his best option was cornering the man one day on the Watchtower if he really wanted answers. He wasn't sure how he felt about Bruce dragging this kid along with him to fight crime in Gotham of all places. It was dangerous to say the least. He had come fully prepared to fight this. But after meeting the kid, Robin, he wasn't exactly sure how he felt.

He still knew it was dangerous, and Diana especially would have a big problem with it once she returned from off planet affairs. All Clark felt he needed at this point was answers. One question continued to gnaw at the back of Clark's mind...

Who the hell was this kid?

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><p><strong>Its a bit short, I know. But think of it as an introduction. Please review And pitch ideas for more oneshots.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Snow Day

**Chapter 2**

**Snow Day  
>Dick age 10<strong>

Richard lay sprawled across the plush rug in Wayne Manor parlour, the fire burning brightly in the hearth. Not finding anything good on telly, Dick settled on the news. He absently watched as Jack Rider droned on about about Batman's latest victory as he waited for Bruce to come home from work. Colouring books, paper, crayons, markers, and scissors lay scattered around him. All the remains of his futile attempt to entertain himself.

Bruce had been gone since noon, leaving Dick at home all alone on his first snow day since living in Gotham. The Academy had been canceled for the remainder of the week due to the raging snow storm. He had Alfred, but it wasn't the same. All the butler did on snowy days was bake cookies and supply Dick with endless hot chocolate. Not that he wasn't grateful for that. But he wished Bruce could've taken the day off to stay and play with him. They had yet to build a snowman or even have a snowball fight that winter.

He'd only been going to Gotham Academy for a year now. Bruce had insisted on homeschool until the next year started. Leaving Dick with only a few friends. Barbara Gordon being the only one he'd truly call his friend. She'd invited him over to play in the snow, but he knew Bruce wouldn't agree to it. Apparently that side of Gotham wasn't exactly the safest place for a ten and twelve year old to run around having snowball fights unsupervised.

He didn't see the big deal of course, he was Robin. Had been for almost a year now. He could handle himself.

But Bruce had been stressed lately by both work and Batman duties. So he didn't push the situation.

The sound of the front door opening and closing lulled Dick from his thoughts. That must be Bruce arriving home. The young boy sprung to his feet and made for the foyer, his socked feet slipping and skidding beneath him on the waxed hardwood.

Bruce had planned on staying home, but as always, business got in the way. Lex Luther just couldn't leave well enough alone. So after a disapproving look from Alfred, he'd sped off to the city in one of many of his cars. And after a full day of business meetings and conferences, he was finally back home. Just walking through the front door put his mind at ease.

He could only hope Dick wasn't too upset with him. He knew he wasn't exactly being fare to him lately. He'd been suspended from Robin duties for an indefinite amount of time. If it was cold enough for school to cancel for a week, it was too could for Robin to go on patrol.

Unfortunately crime didn't stop because of a chill, meaning Batman was still needed despite the icy conditions. And to make matters worse, Mr. Freeze had broken out of Arkham. Twice. All within the past week. Because that's exactly what Gotham needed in the dead of winter, more ice.

Bruce was taken off guard by a sudden weight colliding into his middle. Causing him to nearly drop his briefcase. Looking down he confirmed it to be the resident ten year old. The boy had wrapped his short arms tightly around his father figure's waist, his face buried in Bruce's sweater.

Bruce smiled down and ruffled the boys ebony locks, "hey Chum."

Dick smiled up at Bruce, his robin's egg blue eyes gazing up at him. "How was work?" He asked, genuinely curious as to how Bruce had spent his afternoon.

Bruce's smile faltered a bit at the reminder of his long day. "Nothing too exciting, business as usual."

"So boring and pointless."

Bruce chuckled, setting his briefcase down and hanging his overcoat on the rack, "exactly."

Dick giggled and pulled back, summersaulting into the kitchen where Alfred was working on dinner. Bruce followed close behind, the sent of fresh cooking peaking his interest.

"Good evening Master Bruce," Alfred greeted with a warm smile. Continuing the finishing touches on dinner. "Dinner should be ready shortly."

"Alfred made cookies!" Dick announced practically bouncing with nearly uncontainable energy. He'd done nothing but wait patiently for hours and now that Bruce was finally home he could hardly hold still. It wasn't his fault, he was a ten year old hyped up on Alfred's incredible cookies.

"So what do you wanna do tonight Bruce? We could have a snowball fight, or build a snowman. Alfred said it's still real could out, so we could always do something inside. I know! We could play video games, or watch a movie, or play a card game, or build a puzzle, or-"

"Breathe," Bruce reprimanded.

Dick took a deep breath and continued, "we could play the new game I got for the Play Station, or watch Robin Hood again, or-"

"Dick," Bruce chuckled and knelt down to be eye level with the boy. Placing a hand on the boy's shoulders he spoke, "we can't do everything. So pick something."

Dick opened his mouth.

"That involves staying inside," Bruce added quickly.

Dick sighed. "Alright, we could, um," his face scrunched up in something that reminded Alfred of the face Bruce himself made when in deep concentration. "We could... hmm. This is harder than I thought it would be."

Bruce laughed and stood to his full height. "Well how about I go change into something more comfortable," he said eyeing his own rather uncomfortable suit. "And when I come down we'll eat dinner. Giving you all that time to decide what you wanna do. Sound good?"

Dick nodded vigorously.

With a satisfied nod Bruce headed up the flight of stairs to his room. He hated being stuck in a ridiculous suit all the bloody time. He may have been born and raised in that lifestyle, but it didn't mean he liked it any more.

Dick watched his father leave before hopping into his chair at the dinner table. He was 10 years old, he was a middle schooler already, having skipped a year. Yet he was smaller than other kids his age. In fact, his feet barely even touched the ground as he swung them back and forth beneath the table.

He waited only a few minutes before Bruce came strolling back into the kitchen. Dressed in an old Gotham Knights t-shirt and sweats, looking much more comfortable in his own skin now that he was out of that ridiculous suit. He came around and sat at the head of the table beside Dick, watching the boy closely.

"What are you doing?"

Dick looked up at Bruce through his lashes briefly, barely taking his eyes off his tablet. "Playing a game."

"And what game would that be?"

"'How Far Can I Hack Into the Batcomputer Before You Realise?'"

Bruce blinked, "seriously?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah, I thought it would be good practice. Don't worry, I stayed away from any files you have on Catwoman. Hey!" Dick glared at Bruce, reaching for his tablet.

Bruce shook his head, "nope. Besides, you know how Alfred feels about electronics at the dinner table."

Dick crossed his arms across his chest in a firm pout, "fine."

* * *

><p>"Did you figure out what you want to do yet?" Bruce asked, sitting himself down on the couch in the siting room. Dick quickly clambering up after him.<p>

He nodded, "we could watch a movie."

"Sounds good to me," it wasn't a lie. He was exhausted from the past few days. It was constant business meetings during the day, and Batman duties during the night. "What'd you have in mind?"

Dick shrugged, "we could watch Robin Hood."

Bruce smirked, Dick had an endless fascination with that movie. All of them really, he was surprised he hadn't taken to the bow and arrow as well. If that ever happened he'd have to pass him off Oliver to be his new partner. "You sure you can hold still long enough?"

"We'll just have to find out," Dick proclaimed. He bounced over to the television and set everything up. Putting the movie in and playing it before curling back up in the couch. Snuggling in beside Bruce and wrapping his Flash blanket tightly around himself.

It was this view in which Alfred discovered the two vigilantes only an hour later. Both fast asleep on the the large, expensive couch. Tucked close together, the movie playing absently before them. Alfred could only marvel at the look of utter peace and innocence both acquired whilst resting.

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><p><strong>This is really random and has a shit ending, but I started it and felt like I should finish it. So here you go. Hope you liked it. Please review and send in any requests for future chapters.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: Meeting Flash & Green Lantern

**Chapter 3**

**Meeting The Flash & Green Lantern  
>Dick age 9<strong>

Bruce Wayne was lounging peacefully in the warm glow of the sun beside the extravagant pool on the grounds of Wayne Manor. It was rare that Gotham had such nice summers, and luckily this year had proven to be quite pleasant as of late. The perfect swimming weather.

The typically horrid weather lead to the Olympic sized pool to scarcely be of use. Therefore, Bruce cherished this fine afternoon all the more. Lounging back in his lounge chair in nothing but his swim trunks, a t-shirt and a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses. He just lay there breathing in the warmth and letting it corse through his body. His sore muscles finally relaxing in the heat after a long month of business meetings and crime fighting. Both Bruce Wayne and Batman were being run dry, both constantly needed for some business in Gotham.

Bruce began to drift, the warm rays of the sun and soft sounds of the birds chirping from the treetops lulling him into a blissful, near sleeping state. He was sure it couldn't hurt if he just closed his eyes and-

A throat cleared from directly to his left, causing Bruce to start. Eyes shooting open and head turning in the direction of the sudden disruption. Looking up, he was met with the bright red and blue uniform of the worlds favourite Boy Scout. None other than Superman himself had saw fit to disrupt the first moment of peace Bruce had found in weeks. This better be good.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Bruce ground out through clenched teeth, "can I help you _Clark_?" He nearly spat his name as though it where a curse and stung his very lips.

Clark had the audacity to look a touch regretful for interrupting the billionaires peace and quiet. "You weren't picking up your communicator or your cellphone."

Bruce internally sighed, refraining himself from strangling his best friend. Though he would only hurt himself more than the Man of Steel. They didn't call him that for funsies after all. "Did you ever consider the possibility I was ignoring you on purpose?" Bruce rolled his eyes. Honestly, it was like no one could take a hint. "Well?"

Clark looked confused.

"What did you want?" Bruce barked. Clark better not be disturbing his afternoon because he was simply 'checking in'.

Clark cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably under the glare of the older man. "We needed someone to hack into Luther's files, they were triple encrypted."

Bruce heaved a sigh and lay back down. "_Needed_?"

Clark nodded, "_need_ actually. Like I said, we couldn't get ahold of you."

"Is it important?"

"Well-"

"Can it wait?"

"I-"

"Because if it can wait, then it's going to have to wait. I'm a little busy." Bruce closed his eyes, ignoring Clark and hoping the Boy Scout could take a hint and hit the road. He had no such luck.

With a sudden flash of red and gold accompanied by a small swoosh of air, none other than Barry Allen was standing beside Clark. Clad in his Flash uniform and looking expectantly at Superman and the billionaire.

Bruce grit his teeth in frustration and peeled his eyes open, glaring daggers at Barry.

"Hey Supes, thought you could use some help." Barry was practically vibrating with energy.

Clark quirked a curious brow, "with what?"

Barry shrugged. "We were all getting antsy waiting for ya I guess. We weren't sure if something was up with Bats or what. And Hal was getting on my nerves." He added the last part as though it were an afterthought, though they knew it to be his actual reasoning.

Clark and Bruce smirked, knowing fully well just how annoying Hal Jordan could be.

"I've been gone barely five minutes."

Barry just shrugged his red clad shoulders.

"Well, I'm fine. You seem fine. Everything seems absolutely fine. _Now_ _leave_."

Barry turned on Bruce, moth opened and poised to speak.

"Are you _sunbathing_?"

The three men jumped at he sudden intrusion. Bruce shot up and turned to his right to glare just as Hal touched down on the grass beside Bruce's lounge chair. Bruce heaved a sigh, dragging a calloused hand down his face. Feeling the thin beard that had grown there. Shaving had become an after thought these last few days. Being more preoccupied with Wayne Enterprises and having worked himself ragged from his home office.

"We're busy saving the world, and you're _sunbathing_?" Hal crossed his arms over his chest. Looking the epitome of frustrated. Honestly though, he just did not care for Batman. He was a liability in his eyes, the only one on the team without powers.

Clark was now feeling the full wrath of the Bat-glare. And he knew Bruce was royaly pissed and they'd be lucky if he didn't throw a rich boy hissy fit.

Bruce sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose to head off the growing headache that seemed to manifest whenever Hal was within close proximity. "Five minutes, that's all I ask." He mumbled to himself under his breath.

Clark's enhanced hearing heard him none the less. "You alright Bruce, you look exhausted?" He asked, just noticing the dark circles that rimmed his dull blue eyes. He looked awful actually, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his friend with any trace of facial hair. And since they hadn't heard from Batman in almost a week, he could only assume it was Bruce Wayne related stress wearing on him.

"_Fine_," he growled. The three heroes all taking a minuet step back as a precaution.

"We could come back later," Barry suggested. Finally getting the hint that they weren't exactly welcome on the manor grounds. "Ifyou'dlike?"

"No, we couldn't," Hal interjected. "We, unfortunately, need your help now get off your lazy ass and help."

Bruce pushed himself to his feet, feeling his sore muscles ache from the extension. "Give me ten minutes." He headed for the house, slipping inside with Clark hovering close behind him. The two entered the manor, Bruce heading up the stairs and to his room. Forcefully, he closed the door. Practically slamming it in Clark's face. Leaving a confused and concerned Superman in his hallway.

Clark sighed and headed back down the stairs. Taking up a post in the foyer to wait for his friend the return.

"Master Clark, it is good to see you again." The smooth accent of Alfred washed over Clark, the Man of Steel returning the kind smile.

"You too Alfred," he said kindly. And he meant it, Alfred was one of the nicest people he'd had the pleasure of meeting. Then suddenly a thought popped into his mind. "Hey Alfred, can I ask what's up with Bruce? He seems stressed."

Alfred seemed thoughtful for a moment, a look of concern barely noticeable as it passed over his features only briefly. "The company's been dealt a small draw back recently, and Master Bruce has been working to correct it."

Clark nodded. That sounded... reasonable? He supposed. He didn't know much about big business though, so who was he to judge. Still, he'd never seen Bruce look so stressed. It wasn't a good look for him. Clark looked back to ask more but Alfred was already gone.

Clark could hear Bruce coming back down the stairs. He was talking animatedly on his phone as he did so, his face pinched in stress and frustration. "The Wayne Foundation didn't- yes I know Lucius," Bruce sighed. "I'm taking care of it. Yeah, no I know. I'll fix it. Thanks Lucius." He snapped his phone shut and jogged down the rest of the steps to Clark. Now cleanly shaven and having swapped his trunks for slacks.

"Well you look much better," Clark observed.

Bruce gave him a sly look. "What, didn't like my beard?"

"I prefer you clean shaven."

Bruce just shrugged, "well come on then. Before the Green Idiot breaks something would be nice." Bruce began walking towards the den at a quick pace, pausing once he realised Clark wasn't following him. But staring off down the hall in the direction of the parlour. "Kal?"

"Hmm?" Clark stirred at the sound of Bruce calling his name. The name only Bruce called him. "Sorry, I thought I heard something."

Bruce looked worried, causing Clark's curiosity to only peek. "It was probably Dick, he hasn't been feeling too well."

As if on queue, the sound of small, socked feet softly padding against the hardwood caught Clark's attention. The nine year old came around the corner, his face flushed and nose a bright pink. His Flash blanket hung loosely around his small frame and he clutched his stuffed elephant, Peanut, tightly in his small hands. "Bruce?"

With all the speed of the Flash himself Bruce was at the young boys side. He sat back on his heels to be eye level with Dick, placing a firm, comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hay Dickie, you alright."

Dick sniffled, rubbing at his nose, "what's Uncle Clark doing here? Do you have to leave?"

"What makes you think I have to leave?"

Dick gave Bruce a look that clearly said, 'are you kidding me?' and pointed towards Clark. "He's here as Superman, not Uncle Clark."

Bruce swallowed, he didn't give the kid enough credit. "Yeah, Chum, I have to leave. But only for a bit, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Clark felt a pang of guilt for dragging Bruce away from home when Dick was so weak and vulnerable. He was well aware of how overprotective Bruce was of the kid.

Dick didn't seem convinced by Bruce's words. "Promise?"

Bruce smiled -a genuine, warm smile that few ever saw but Dick saw frequently. "I promise Dickie."

"And you'll be careful?"

Bruce nodded, "yes I'll be careful. I won't even leave the Watchtower, okay?"

Dick nodded, satisfied with Bruce's promise.

"Now c'mon, give me a hug."

Dick smiled and did just that. His small arms wrapping tightly around his father figure. Small hands clinching his t shirt in a tight grip. He buried his head in Bruce's shoulder, leaning into his warmth. Bruce rubbed soothing circles along his back, feeling awful for leaving his baby when he was ill. "Alfred's here if you need anything alright?"

Dick nodded and pulled away from Bruce.

"Hay, Bats! You comin'!?" Barry called, heading into the foyer at a relativity slow pace for the speedster. He'd never been in the Wayne house before and he wasn't exactly prepared for the extravagant interior he was met with.

Both Barry and Hal stopped beside Clark, gazing down at the boy in Bruce's arms. The two looking equally confused. Bruce just glared, he did not invite them in.

Hal leaned in towards Clark, never taking his eyes off the kid, and spoke so only Clark could hear. "_Does the vampire have a son_?"

Clark arched a brow at Hal's name for Bruce.

"Who's this?" Barry asked aloud, not caring who answered. So long as he got one.

Dick's bright, tired eyes went wide as Barry stepped forward. "You- you're the Flash!" Dick stammered over his words in excitement at meeting one of his idols. Bruce chuckled at his enthusiasm.

"Yes I am, now who are you?"

"I'm Robin!" Dick said proudly, his chest puffing out. The illusion of strength falsified by his pink cheeks and runny nose. "Batman's parter."

A gear seemed to turn in Barry's head. Recognition spreading over both Barry and Hal's faces.

"So this is the kid we've heard so much about on the news," Hal proclaimed. "Huh, I thought you'd be taller."

Barry elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a disapproving look. He really rather not get on the Bat's bad side already. At least not more so than they already were for infuriating his 'me time.'

Dick tugged excitedly on Bruce's sleeve, practically vibrating with excitement. "Bruce! Bruce! He's the Flash!" He exclaimed, his voice raspy from his cold.

Bruce smirked, "yes I've noticed."

Barry grinned down at the kid who was so excited to see him. Wrapped tightly in a blanket with his very face on it. He suddenly bent down eye level with him, extending his hand. "Barry Allan."

Dick shook his hand, "Dick Grayson."

"It's very nice to meet you Dick. Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna have to steal your old dad here for a minute to take care of some official League business." He spoke fast, and Bruce was honestly surprised Dick could understand him.

Dick just nodded, "okay."

Bruce have Dick one last smile, ruffling his hair. "I'll be back in a few minutes Dickie."

Dick watch as his father disappeared into the den, the three League members following close behind. He could hear as the clock gave way to reveal the elevator to the Batcave. A small smile spread across his lips as he listened to them disappear, before dragging his feet into the parlour. He curled up on the couch, and pulled his blanket tightly around himself. He grabbed the remote and pushed the play button, resuming his movie, and sinking into the plush pillows.

Allowing his mind to drift, he was fast asleep within just a few seconds.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm pretty happy with this chapter so I hope you all like it too. Please, please review. And leave any suggestions.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4: Homework

**Chapter 4: Homework**

**Dick age 10**

Barry wasn't having the greatest of days, far from it actually. It was constantly one thing after another. Central City had exploded into a criminal playground that had to be taken care of before someone seriously got hurt. Luckily he'd been able up round up all the pathetic excuses for villains before it had gotten too out of hand with the help of the CCPD. But it took a good chunk of time, two weeks to be exact. Leaving the 'fastest man alive' very possibly the tiredest as well.

And unluckily for Barry, tonight was also his shift for monitory duty on the Watchtower. He only had roughly twenty minutes until the rest of the League headed home, leaving the dull duty to none other than himself. And the Bat.

The anticipation was killing him.

Why Batman had insisted on staying on the Watchtower to work was beyond him. Something about research for a case and a certain malfunction on the Batcomputer that was yet to be repaired.

Barry heaved a sigh and slurped down his fifth iced mocha of the past half hour. Anything to keep his mind off the long night of just him and the Bat sitting in a quiet room staring at blank monitor screens. It was a horrifying thought, being alone for hours with no one for company but the least talkative on the team. Because that was logical, put the chatterbox and the mute in a room together. Yes, because they were bound to have loads of insightful conversations.

Barry briefly wondered if he could get away with making a few changes to the monitor duty schedule before remembering he already tried that last week. He'd signed the Bat up for an entire week, seeing as he was the only one who seemingly didn't mind the mind numbing experience. It was four days before Superman realised something was amiss. Seeing as Batman never spoke up, that left the Flash to only strengthen his belief that the Bat truly didn't mind -and very possibly even enjoyed- monitor duty.

Barry couldn't help but wonder what he did during those long hours. Read? Sleep? Meditate? He couldn't even say he'd be surprised if he walked in and found the man in question hanging from the rafters similarly to the creature from which he's named.

Barry tossed his empty cup in the trash bin before pushing open the door to the Monitor Womb. To the Flash's dismay the Bat unsurprisingly sat in his designated chair, working away at the computer. News articles and images floated around the screen. Barry couldn't tell what he was doing, but apparently Batman did, so whatever made the guy happy right?

"Haya Bats," Barry greeted, unsure if the man was even aware he was in the room.

Bruce only grunted in response.

Barry's brows furrowed. Typical. He knew this was going to happen, mister dark and depressing was just going to ignore him all night. Well Barry just couldn't have that. "Whatcha working on?"

Bruce glanced over his shoulder at the scarlet speedster. "Case."

Barry rolled his eyes before throwing himself down in the closest chair. "Well what kind of case? You know, this is going to one long night if you only communicate in grunts and single syllable words."

Bruce gave a small sigh, he should have known better than to hang around after hours with the Flash. "Penguin broke out of Arkham a few hours ago. I've already narrowed down his location to a handful of places." Bruce explained, gesturing towards the map of Gotham on the far right side of the large screen. Several locations along the southwestern end where highlighted.

"Well how'd you narrow it down so fast?" Barry questioned, genuinely curious. He was fast, the fastest man alive in fact, but he wasn't that fast. And on top of that, it was rare anyone was witness to the Bat's methods. "You said he's only been loose a few hours."

"The Commissioner at GCPD gave me a call informing me of all Penguin's typical hideouts they've already cleared."

Barry nodded, that sounded reasonable. He wished the CCPD was more helpful. It wasn't that his city wasn't fond of him, they loved him, really. He was just a bit difficult to work with seeing as he always sped off. He supposed Batman's mysterious affect he had helped a bit. Then again, Supes face was painted everywhere and people absolutely adored him.

"A call? Like on your phone? As in your personal phone, not your gauntlet's communicator?"

Bruce just nodded, leaving Barry completely baffled. The Gotham police force must really like their neighbourhood vigilante. And Bats must really trust them too, giving this commissioner his personal number. That could only mean the guy knew who he was. Like who he REALLY was. No one was allowed to know who he was. It took the League almost a year before they were privy to that information.

A low ringing sound broke the silence that had filled the room. Catching Barry off guard.

Bruce didn't even flinch, just grabbed the phone from his utility belt as quick as he could. He raised an eyebrow, it was his personal phone. Bruce Wayne's phone. At first he assumed it was Gordon with more information, but the flashing phone in his hands read a different name.

Bruce answered the call and placed the mobile phone to his ear. "Dick?"

Barry looked on at the Dark Knight curiously. He'd only met the kid, Dick, a few times. And he had to say he was quite fond of him.

"Did you try multiplying it?"

That caught Barry's attention.

"Well then multiply the three and carry the one... You should get a whole number... Did you carry the one?... No! No I believe you. If you said you carried the one, you carried the one." A small smile graced Bruce's lips, his eyes lit with amusement.

Barry couldn't believe his ears. Was the big bad Bat really helping a ten year old with math homework?

"Well you're the one who had to go skipping two grades. I haven't been in eight grade for almost twenty years."

Barry clamped a hand over his mouth, keeping the rising laughter from bubbling over. This was too good.

"Alright, alright. No, Alfred won't be home until Friday... Yeah. Now read the whole equation to me."

Barry just gave Bruce an innocent look when the Dark Knight shot him a look. Silently daring him to open his mouth.

"Well that should have worked... I'm coming home." Bruce shut down the computer he'd been working on and sped from the room. Black cape billowing behind him, the dark swallowing him. Leaving Barry to sit in the quite Monitor Womb alone.

Barry heaved a sigh, tossing his arms in the air. "Great. Now it's too quiet."

* * *

><p><strong>I know this is late, but school got in the way I hope you liked it and don't forget to review!<strong>

**And incase you guys were wondering, I go with the story of Bruce taking Dick in when he was 8 (almost 9) and he became Robin at 9 soon after discovering that Bruce is Batman.  
>Also, some of these stories may be more Bruce centric than Dick. But hopefully most will focus more on our favourite little bird.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: Aristocracy

**Chapter 5: Aristocracy  
>Dick age 9 (not yet Robin)<br>Also Harvey Dent isn't Two Face yet.**

"Bruuuuce!" The high pitched cry of a winy nine hear old carried through the hall. Piercing through the serene quiet that had long since fallen on the manor.

Bruce cringed, his fingers slipping from his bow tie he was attempting to get on, in front of the large mirror that ran from floor to ceiling. Dick came barrelling into Bruce's room, his socked feet gliding, and ran right into the taller man's legs. Clamping on to his dress slacks for dear life. "Bruce, I don't wanna go!" Dick cried, his piercing blue eyes watered just the slightest bit as he peered up at his father figure.

Dick kept a firm grip on Bruce's leg, refusing to let go. His small hands had a surprisingly strong grip.

It had been just over a year since Bruce took the young boy in, and so far he'd managed to keep him out of the eye of the public. The only time he'd been mentioned in the papers was when Bruce was seen at the orphanage. All the press had on him was a name and a few leaked photos.

Until today.

Tonight was Dick's first public appearance since he came to live at Wayne Manor. Bruce had kept him homeschooled until he was situated and comfortable in his new home. He didn't want to stack too much on the boy when he was in such a fragile state. And even though Dick spent hours outside, he rarely left the Manor grounds. But tonight young Richard would be opened to the world at large. Or at least the aristocratic portion of it anyway.

That is, if Bruce could wrestle him into a suit first.

Bruce smirked and peeled the tiny child off his shin, bending down to his level. "Just this morning you were saying how much you wanted to meet people and, I quote, 'experience life'. And now you're telling me you'd rather stay up here in your room all night?"

Dick bit his lip as if contemplating something particularly trying. He nodded his head, his thick, wavy hair bouncing in his eyes. He needed a haircut, Bruce observed. But that could wait, he seemed to like his hair at the length it was.

Bruce sighed and sat on the hardwood floor with a grunt. Wrapping his muscles arms around his ward, he pulled him close until he was sitting between his open legs in front of him. His wide eyes meeting Bruce's stern, comforting gaze. "What's the matter Dickie Bird?" Bruce's tone was gentle and inviting, the total opposite of his darker counterpart that Dick had yet to discover.

Dick looked down at his small hands. His only response was a meagre shrug of his slumped shoulders and a low mumble.

Bruce's brows knit in confusion, unable to decipher the child's mumbles. Not even he was that good. Gently, he placed his index finger beneath his chin, lifting his face up to meet his eyes. "Dick, it's alright to be a little frightened. You've barely left Wayne property since you've lived here. Listen, I'm not your father Dick, but I couldn't love my own flesh and blood more than I love you, chum. If you don't want to go, then I'm not going to make you. But you can't stay locked in your room forever."

Dick sniffed, his gaze falling to the floor. "Now you just sound like Alfred."

Bruce let out a chuckle at that, earning a smile out of Dick as well. He couldn't say he didn't like being compared to the man who raised him, but he knew he didn't deserve the compliment nor the honour. He would be lucky to ever be half the man Alfred is. "I'm serious Dick, if you really don't want to go I'm not going to make you."

Dick sniffed, "I know. I wanna go, I'm just..."

"Scared?"

Dick shrugged his little shoulders. "I don't know, nervous I guess. What if they don't like me Bruce?"

Bruce smiled, "don't like you?" He laughed. "Dick why wouldn't they like you?"

Dick shrugged once again. "I don't know," he mumbled. "What if I'm not what they expect? I'm a circus kid and you're Bruce Wayne, everyone in Gotham loves you."

"Well I wouldn't say everyone." Bruce ran a hand through Dick's thick curls. "Dick, they are going to love you, I promise."

A small smile lit up the child's face.

"Does that mean you're coming? The party's in our own house you can leave when ever you'd like."

Dick nodded, "okay."

Bruce hopped to his feet, lending Dick a hand and pulling him to his own two feet. "Let's get you into that suit then, shall we?"

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Why did he agree to this? He didn't like it; this ridiculous, noisy party. People were moving about, everyone talking over one another and stepping on each other's toes. Dull looking women in long dresses and high heels clung to vain looking men in sleek, black suits.<p>

Women cooed when they walked past Dick, many stopping to introduce themselves. As though Dick was supposed to know who they were, or even care. Dick stuck close to Bruce, keeping a vice like grip on the hem of his suit jacket. Refusing to let go if his life depended on it.

He didn't like it here. Almost every woman who walked past would throw themselves at Bruce. Champagne sloshing in their glasses. Clinging to his shoulders and saying dim witted things. Things Bruce would simply smile or laugh at. Dick didn't get it, why would Bruce encourage these people? These woman? Why was Bruce just playing along?

Dick could swear the moment they stepped into this ridiculous party Bruce lost a good portion of his brain cells. It was as if he was an entirely different person. A naive, vain man who was insistently self deprecating himself for these people. It was insulting.

Dick felt a pang of anger and what may or may not be jealousy whenever a busty woman with not quite enough clothes on would throw themselves at Bruce. He wasn't entirely sure how come. Bruce was like his father, he was his. And these woman were taking him away, tearing his attention away from him and to them. Dick wasn't a spoilt brat, he didn't need Bruce's constant attention, didn't need him watching everything he did. Dick wasn't trying to impress anybody. He just didn't like Bruce's attention being waisted on these bimbos.

It was all very overwhelming.

This was his home, his sanctuary. His, Bruce's and Alfred's. These stuck up rich people didn't belong in his home. So he stuck close to Bruce, watching as the people mingled and chatted. He could see Alfred milling about with a tray, waiting on people, with a board, resigned look to his features. The older man was used to these gatherings, he'd been working them for years. Since before Bruce was even born.

It didn't help though, Dick was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Sinking closer and closer to Bruce. It was sickening, actually. His stomach was twisting into all kinds of uncomfortable nots, only adding to his discomfort.

There were just so many people. All speaking over the other.

And then there was Bruce, his Bruce. But not. He was beginning to scare him actually. He didn't even sound like his Bruce anymore. He almost sounded like one of them.

Bruce's speech faulted when he felt Dick release his grip on his jacket and slide his tiny hand into his. Squeezing tightly. Bruce returned a gentle reassuring squeeze, looking down at his ward out of the corner of his eye and continuing his conversation with the three woman hanging off him. All oblivious to the discomfort the nine year old was in.

Dick had practically hid himself behind Bruce. The naturally small child practically invisible behind Bruce's broad frame. Bruce may not be the worlds best father, or person, or anything really. But he knew when enough was too much.

Bruce shot the three woman a kind smile, "excuse my ladies." Bruce tightened his grip on Dick's hand gently, leading him away from the crowd and around a corner to the study. Bruce shut the oak doors behind them. In the security of the study, Dick swapped his grip on Bruce's hand for his chest. He practically threw himself at Bruce, wrapping his small arms around him tightly.

Bruce ran a hand through Dick's hair, soothingly. "Hey chum, what's the matter?"

Dick shrunk in Bruce's arms. Pulling himself up into his lap and shaking his head.

Dick sniffled and Bruce found himself regretting even having this stupid charity ball. It was for a good cause, but still. He pulled Dick close and continued stroking his ebony hair, pulling the thick locks away and out of his eyes. Letting the small boy lean on him. "Dick? Are you alright?" He asked softly.

"Don't make me go back in there," he begged. It was hardly above a whisper, his voice muffled.

Bruce's eyes widened marginally. "Okay, alright Dick, no one's making you go back in there."

Dick nodded against his chest. "Cus I don't think I ca ha- ha." His voice began to hiccup along with the watering of his eyes. "I just-"

"Shhh, Dickie, hush." Bruce soothed him, continuing his claiming ministrations of running his hand through his hair. After a beat of silence, a thought sparked in the back of Bruce's mind. "Would you like to stay in here?"

Dick peered up at Bruce through his lashes, confused. "Can I?"

Bruce smiled, "of course. We've got a tv and a couch. Not to mention the entire place is soundproof, so you don't have to worry about loud mouthed socialites keeping you up. Here," he stood and grabbed Dick. Lifting him up by his armpits and onto the alarmingly plush couch.

Dick was always fond of this particular piece of furniture. He'd spend hours doing homework on it whilst Bruce worked away at his desk, filling out Wayne Industries paperwork. Dick made it his priority to keep Bruce company when he was stressed over a long day at work.

Dick wasn't afraid of the people on just the other side of the locked door. They were just different, uncomfortably so. They were frightening in their own troublesome way.

Dick pulled his shoes and ridiculous jacket off almost frantically. The thick material clinging to him uncomfortably. Bruce did just the same, only in a more collected manor. Hanging them on the coat wrack in the corner behind his desk.

"Don't you have to go back out there?"

Bruce just smiled down at the boy and shook his head. "I'm sure Harvey can handle it. He is the one they all really came to see anyway. Running for mayor and all." He leaned over and snatched the remote off his desk, then proceeding to sit beside his ward. "I can always go back later. But I'm sure a few episodes of Scooby Doo first couldn't hurt."

Dick grinned to himself and leaned into Bruce. Shimmying over and snuggling into his warm side, Bruce wrapped a muscled arm around him. It was comforting for Dick to see Bruce back to his normal self again. Once he was away from those people he snapped right out of it. The façade he'd so carefully created was swept away.

Bruce sat with his ward -no, Dick was more than that; his _son_- in the dimly lit room. The sound of late night cartoons played softly before them on the relatively large corner TV. It was no surprise that Dick was out, fast asleep curled up beside Bruce, in a matter of minutes. Bruce briefly considered going back out to the party, but figured he too could use some much needed rest.

He'd had a long week of crime fighting and business meetings, it was nice to just blow it all off for once. And tonight, that's exactly what Bruce Wayne and Batman alike planned on doing.


	6. Chapter 6: Catwoman

**Chapter 7: Catwoman**

**Dick age 14**

Many things came to mind when one encountered Catwoman. Lethal, deadly, flexible, were just some of them. She was a vague subject, little was known of her. She was a cat burglar who prowled Gotham at night, stealing only highly valuable items, jewels and antiquities.

Many things came to mind when one encountered Miss Selina Kyle. Prideful, determined, beautiful, just to name a few. She was an ex sreetrat and prostitute as well as a widely known animal activist. She'd go to extreme, sometimes illegal, lengths to insure the safety of wild cats. She would fight powerful associations will all she had, refusing to back down.

These were all know facts to the citizens of Gotham.

But what they failed to see, however, was that the two were one in the same. Opposite sides of a single coin. All failed to see this, all except for one particular bat.

Catwoman was currently crouched behind a gargoyle atop a Gotham rooftop, the entire city at her feet. She felt free, running along these roofs. She fully understood why Batman was so fond of this lost city, he had the whole of it at his mercy.

But Salina hadn't come for a merger prowl. No, her sights were set on somewhere particular tonight. Or someone, to be more specific.

Robin, to be exact. He was in trouble, she just knew it. She could feel it in her bones. She hated to call it a maternal instinct, but what else could she call it? She cared for the child deeply. She could see the Boy Wonder and his ragtag team just up ahead, battling what appeared to be Penguin and his thugs. Batman must have sent them into the city for a mission and they were unfortunate enough to intercepted Penguin in the midst of one of his schemes. She'd have to speak with Batman later about the dangers of assigning the children a mission within the city limits, but she knew he would have a good reason for his choice.

Selina -Catwoman- dove off the roof, landing in a crouch, gravel crunching beneath her feet. Poised and ready to strike, she sped forward and pounced on Penguin. The short plump man was caught off guard, not expecting the attack from behind. He was a predictable enough villain, one she could easily apprehend on her own. But this bunch of kids, super powered or not, shouldn't be handling him alone. They didn't know his ways like Selina or Robin did.

Robin wasn't expecting the attack from the Cat either, along with the rest of his team. But he recovered quickly, attacking with his trademark eskrima sticks. It was an easy enough battle, no thanks to his teammates. A few kicks here, a few punches there, and Penguin was as good as finished.

After a corny bird pun and a pitiful threat, Penguin flew the coup the first chance he got. Leaving behind a very confused group of teenage crime fighters and one Catwoman.

Selina spun on her heels, grabbing the teenaged Robin by his shoulders. "What were you thinking? You could've been killed!"

Dick cringed, "I think I can handle Penguin, Selina. He's no Harvey Dent. We were fine."

Selina huffed a sigh, "it's the principle of the thing Birdboy. You realise Batman would suspend you indefinitely if he knew you were taking on Arkham worthy criminals on your own."

Recognition flashed in Richard's eyes. "You're not gonna tell him are you?"

Selina was good and ready to say yes. But then Dick just had to throw up those damned puppy eyes and her resolve went right out the figurative window. She shook her head, resigned, "just be careful Richard."

Dick nodded firmly. "Of course."

"Good."

"Umm..." Artemis cleared her throat. "Sorry to break up the, um, whatever's going on here, but shouldn't we get back to the cave?"

"Yes," Kaldur spoke up, taking initiative as team leader. "I'm sure Batman is waiting for us."

"No wait hold on a second, I wanna know who our rescuer is." Wally demanded, eyeing Catwoman with a suspicious gaze. It's not that he wasn't grateful, but this was Gotham and there was never any telling who was friend of foe. No matter how attractive they were.

"I second that," said Conner.

Artemis threw her hands up with an aggravated sigh, "come on." She couldn't care less about Catwoman. "Robin it's raining, can't we take this into the bioship? It's like a block from here."

Dick smiled up at Catwoman, she couldn't help but smile back. The kid was contagious. Selina stepped around Dick, her hips swaying from left to right. "You must be the Arrow's new brat?" Her word choice wasn't exactly kind, but the genuine smile on her lips was.

Artemis quirked a brow, "what's it to you?"

Selina shrugged, "just curious."

"Well you know the saying just as well as I do."

Dick shook his head. Oh Artemis, always the smart ass.

"Rob, who is this?" Wally finally asked, getting annoyed with the back and forth.

"Catwoman," Salina purred. Extending her clawed hand to the ginger speedster.

Wally blinked, then carefully he copied her actions. Extending his own hand and shaking hers politely. "Kid Flash, Rob's best friend since forever."

"And that's Superboy, Miss Martian," M'gann smiled and gave a small wave, "Aqualad and Artemis." Dick introduced the team, pointing at the respected members.

"Great, now that we're all introduced, can we go?" Artemis was getting seriously annoyed. She hated the rain, anymore of this and her explosive arrows would be useless.

Dick opened his mouth to speak, froze, and then closed it as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the rooftops around them. The silhouette of a large figure only a few feet ahead stood out in stark contrast to the momentarily blindingly bright sky.

The team jumped, not having heard nor seen the figure approach. A small smile pulled at the corners of Selina's lips. "You just gonna stand there all day Handsome?"

Out of the shadows stepped the tall, broad figure of the Dark Knight. A familiar glint in his eyes, "Selina."

Her smile grew and she turned to face the man. "Thought you were busy with the Super Friends?"

"I came to check on the kids. They were late."

Robin and the others had the decency to look a bit ashamed of their tardiness. Well, all except for Artemis who just looked pissed and about ready to punch someone. More than likely Wally.

"Well there's no need to worry, I'd never let any harm come to my favourite bird or his little friends."

Bruce resisted the urge to smile, he always found his resolve harder to keep when around the Cat. She had a certain way of throwing him off his guard. He didn't like it.

Yet for some reason he kinda did.

Bruce turned to the group of teens, "team, get back to the bioship. Black Canary is waiting to debrief you. I'll be there shortly."

They all nodded and one by one they fled back to their ship. Artemis with a satisfied and triumphant grin, hands planted firmly on her hips.

Selina all but pounced on Bruce once the kids had turned their backs. Their lips locking in a brief but meaningful kiss. Bruce's smiled against her lips, before capturing them once more. Their kiss more intimate and heartfelt.

"You coming by the manor tonight?" Bruce asked as he pulled away.

Selina smirked, "that depends."

"On?"

"You gonna buy me dinner first?"

Bruce raised a single brow behind his cowl. "That's what Alfred's for."

"Hey Rob," Wally poked his younger friend in the shoulder. "Are Bats and Catwoman like, a thing?" He asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one, their sucking faces."

Dick turned his head and nearly hurled, "that's nasty."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Conner moaned from Dick's opposite side.

"I think it's sweet," M'gann piped up, stealing a quick kiss on Conner's cheek before flying ahead. Conner blushed and ignored the mocking looks on his friends faces.

"You don't have to deal with them at home, without their masks on it only gets worse." With that Dick bound aboard the ship.


	7. Chapter 7: Banks

Chapter 8: Banks

Dick age 14

Dick could identify the foot steps approaching before he could see the feet causing them. With a groan, he quickly grabbed his history text book he shut his locker, making a mad dash for the front doors.

He'd barely made it two steps before he felt the tug on his shirt collar. Strong hands yanked him back and slammed him into the nearest locker.

"Hey circus freak," it was Ryan Banks. A junior, only a grade above Dick, but older than him by almost four years. Not to mention the height difference, Dick had to strain his neck to look the light haired boy in the eyes.

"What do you want?"

Well, usually. Ryan had such a tight grip on his collar he had lifted him clean off the ground, his toes barely scraping the floor, they were almost eye to eye. "After the way you showed off in class. I figured you needed a lesson. What're you still doing here anyway, Shrimp? Schools been out for hours."

Dick blinked, dismissing the uncreative insult. Shrimp, really? Ryan was the typical, stereotypical bully. He was an athlete, broad shouldered and relied purely on brute force. He was dumb as a tack.

"Oh, that's right, the little nerd joined the mathletes didn't he?" Ryan mocked and loosened his grip enough for Dick's feet to just touch the ground.

Dick coughed and rubbed a hand across his sore throat. "I'd ask what you're still doing here but I think it's pretty obvious you were here for wrestling with the rest of the meatheads." He couldn't say he was surprised by the rough punch to the jaw, but that didn't make it hurt any less. It was never smart to call a bully an idiot. Not to his face anyway.

Dick slumped against his locker, his had instinctively coming to his face. He could taste the copper blood on his tongue. He wasn't scared of this guy or his stupid little gang that followed him around like a bunch of good little spaniels. He knew he could kick all their ass' without breaking a sweat, but at what cost? There was nothing he could do without blowing his cover and revealing he was Robin. That was a risk he just couldn't take.

So he just took the punches blow for blow and turned the other cheek.

"You need to learn when to shut your mouth Grayson. Just because you're livin' with Wayne doesn't make you a Wayne. It doesn't make you any more importan' than the rest of us." Ryan growled, punctuating his point with a follow up punch to the to Dick's ribs.

Dick gasped, sucking air in greedily. "I-" he wheezed, "I never- never said that I was." He would never think such a thing about anyone.

Ryan delivered one last punch, this one with more force. Causing Dick's vision to blur and head to spin. He slumped to the floor and watched as Ryan left, kicking Dick's text book a few feet away as he did so.

Now that he was alone he allowed a moan to slip past his swollen and bleeding lips. His arms wrapping protectively around his middle. He closed his eyes and focused on evening his breathing. He needed to categorise his mind, organise and separate the pain. It was simple enough, a skill he learned over the years as Robin.

Dick wasn't completely sure how long he lay there. But it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before the soft, precise clack of short heels broke through the silence.

Barbara Gordon gasped when she rounded the corner. It was a high squeak of a noise. The sight of her best friend curled up on the floor, clearly in pain was not what she'd expected to see. "Oh my god, Dick, are you alright?" She dropped her bag and rushed to his side, she placed a cool hand on his cheek and another on his shoulder. "Hey, Richie Rich, are you okay?"

Dick peered up at her, wiping a smudge of bloodworm his chin. "I'm alright Barbara," he replied distractedly.

Babs shook her head and grit her teeth. "I am going to kick Ryan's sorry ass."

Dick pushed himself to his feet with the help of the taller girl. "What are you still doing here anyway?"

"We had a Young Writers meeting," she said as she helped steady Dick. "Just got out a minute ago. My dad should be here any minute to pick me up, do you wanna ride?"

Dick shook his head. "Alfred should be here soon."

Babs sighed, still keeping her grip on Dick's shoulder. Whether it was to comfort him or her, neither could tell. "Sometimes I wonder how morons like Ryan Banks even got into this school."

Dick huffed a laugh, it only hurt a bit. "Money. Bruce said his dad came into it awhile back when his mother mysteriously disappeared." Truth be told, Barbara was one of the poorest kids in the academy. The only reason she wasn't in the sad excuse of a school in the inner city was because the Wayne Foundation paid her way. One reason why her and Artemis Crock hit it off so well. Along with a number of other things the two bad in common. Namely punching criminals.

Barbara sighed and helped Dick pick up his things. The two leaned heavily on each other as they walked down the locker corridor. Neither commented on their closeness, it feeling so natural to the both of them. "Thanks again Babs."

Barbara gave her friend a warm smile, "what, did you expect me to just leave you there? By the way, when are you planning on telling Bruce about this?"

Dick just shook his head. "I don't know if I can."

Barbara quirked a brow. "And what in the hell is that supposed to mean? It's not like you can hide this anyway. You'll be sorting a few shiners in a matter of minutes." Babs lowered her voice, "just because you're the Boy Wonder you think you have to be some kind of emotionless machine who can't admit to weakness?"

"I just- I," Dick sighed. "I don't know Babs. I mean, you know how Bruce is, if he found out he'd freak. I don't want him thinking that I'm weak."

Barbara planted her feet firmly on the ground, her short heels stamping. A definitive look crossed her face. "Richard Grayson, if there is one thing you are not, that is _weak_! You're human, you're entitled to weakness but that does _not_ make you weak. I want you to go home right now and tell Bruce about this. If you don't, well," she stammered," I- I'll call him myself!" She looked determined, and Dick knew from experience she wasn't one for idle threats.

He nodded, "okay. Okay I'll tell Bruce tonight."

"Good. Now you just leave Ryan to me."

Dick chuckled, pleased when Barbara rejoined him in his walk out the front doors. It was a nice day and the fresh air did both of them some good.

It came as a pleasant surprise when Alfred pulled the car up to the doors just seconds after they stepped out. Relief fled through Dick, the sooner he got home the better. His throat was really bothering him from where Ryan's meaty hands grabbed him and his head was pounding. He didn't like the idea of standing for much longer either.

"You going to be okay Richie Rich?"

Dick gave his old friend a reassuring smile, "I'll be fine Babs. I'll call you later."

"You better, I need your help with Geometry." Babs smiled, making her way to her own car. "If I don't pass this test my dads threatening to throw me in jail. And with my dad that's a real possibility."

Dick laughed, waving goodbye.

"Good evening Master Richard," Alfred greeted him warmly as he buckled himself into the back seat.

"Hey Alfie," Dick internally berated himself for the strained rasp of his voice. It was scratchy and he'd be lucky if Alfred hadn't already deduced the cause already.

"I trust you'll be having a discussion with Master Bruce upon arriving home." Yep, he'd definitely figured it out.

The ride to the Manor was one of silence. Not the usual, companionable quiet that enveloped the vehicle after a long day. But a tense, uncomfortable sort of quiet. One of Alfred knowing every last detail and Dick feeling oddly guilty, his head bowed in shame and thought. He knew he should just tell the truth, whether Alfred knew it all already or not it mattered not. It would pan out better in the long run if he were to tell Bruce himself immediately rather than being asked.

As the car pulled into the drive Alfred spoke, "Master Bruce arrived home around noon. I suggest speaking with him immediately would be the smartest approach."

Dick entered the Manor and made a bee line for Bruce's office. Knowing he'd be there, taking care of a few papers before evening patrol.

Dick knocked softly on the large oak door that stood at half mast and carefully pushed it the rest of the way open. Bruce beamed at the sight of his son, but the grin slowly faded. A grim scowl creased his brow as he stood, pushing his chair away from his desk. "Dick are you alright?"

He hadn't caught his reflection in awhile, but Dick imagined small bruises the shape of Ryan's fingers blotched the soft, pale skin around his throat by now. And maybe a few others as well. He tossed his back pack on the small couch and hoisted himself up beside it.

Bruce was knelt in front of him within mere seconds. Gentle hands turned Dick's head to the side, inspecting the small bruises. Looking but not touching. "Dick who did this?" Bruce's mind raced with possibilities. An Arkham breakout? He didn't hear anything on the news. Maybe a street thug? But still, he'd heard nothing on the news about any robberies or muggings. "What happened?" The concern clearly lacing Bruce's voice made Dick cringe.

"I'm fine Bruce, just some kid at school. It's nothing."

Bruce practically shot the bat-glare at Dick.

If looks could kill.

"This isn't nothing Richard," Bruce's voice was stern, a trace of the Batman leaking through. Leaving no room for arguments. "What. Happened?"

Dick sighed heavily and glared down at the stupid dress shoes on his feet. He silently cursed Barbara for making him do this. "Ryan Banks-"

Bruce shot to his feet, his scowl deepening, not needing to hear anymore. He should have known that damn Banks kid was the cause of this. That entire family was trouble, rotten to the core. He was fairly certain Mr. Banks was one of Two-Face's goons.

"Bruce it's not that big of a deal, I can handle myself." Dick tried reasoning but he knew it was pointless. The was no teetering the Bat.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "I know you can, Dick, I know you can." But he also knew Dick wouldn't fight back, not as Richard Grayson. But put on a mask and a bright cape and he could handle any street thug that came his way on a bad day. On a good day, well...

It took only seconds for Bruce to make up his mind. He would have to call Ryan's father. He wasn't letting this slide.

"I thought you might appreciate this, Master Bruce," Alfred said handing off a first aid kit.

When did he come in? Bruce wondered briefly. The older man was practically a bat himself, moving soundlessly through the Manor. "Thank you Alfred."

The faithful butler nodded before marching back out of the room with a, "do be more careful Master Richard Master Bruce already worries too much. Any more of this and we'll give him a heart attack before he's fourty."

Dick felt like a helpless child when Bruce began dabbing at his bleeding lip. The office was filled with stiff silence for a few minutes. Not a relaxing sort of silence, but less tense than the car ride home. Until Bruce finally spoke. "You are allowed to fight back you know."

Dick looked at him with wide eyes.

"I mean, not like Robin or anything. Just a punch or two." He recovered quickly. He handed Dick an ice pack, the small boy excepted it gratefully, placing it over his bruising jaw. "We don't want to give away your identity quiet yet now do we?" Bruce said with a tense laugh.

He hated to see Dick like this. Torn between what was right and wrong. He knew he could fight back, but also knew he shouldn't.

"Thank you Bruce."

"For what?" he wondered.

"For not thinking I'm weak."

Bruce smiled warmly at his ward, wrapping his muscled arms tightly around his small frame. Dick returned the gesture, his small arms snaking around Bruce's neck. "Never."

* * *

><p>The very next day, when Dick returned to school, slipping into his first block seat he couldn't believe his eyes.<p>

Only three seats over and two seats up sat Ryan Michael Banks, a variety of colourful bruises decorating his face. His (now crooked) nose sporting a stark white bandage and a bright, purple smudge beneath one eye.

The only indication as to who was responsible of Ryan's current condition, was the sound of a blonde and a red head giggling a few seats behind Dick. Not to mention the way Ryan flinched when said girls walked past him after class.

* * *

><p><strong>Ok. The end. I hope you liked it. I've had this chapter sitting half finished for quite awhile and I have to say in rather satisfied with the way it turned out.<strong>

**Thanks for reading, please review or suggest an idea for a chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8: Smallville

**Smallville**

Martha Kent couldn't sleep. It was late at night and she'd awoken unexpectedly to the sound of the dog barking. She now stood in her small, homely kitchen, nursing a cup of tea when the back door suddenly creaked open on rusty hinges. Startled, she set the mug down and cautiously approached the back door.

"Clark quit shoving," an unfamiliar voice whispered harshly in the darkness.

"I wouldn't be shoving if you'd just walk," Clark whispered back, sounding equally annoyed.

"I nearly lost my leg and you're telling me to 'walk'?"

"Nearly. It's still intact, Bruce."

"Easy for you to say, you don't even bruise, Clark!" The unfamiliar voice, Bruce, bit back. Accompanied by a loud clatter. There went that new lamp. "I'll pay for that."

"Would you keep it down. Ma's probably asleep."

"It's twelve thirty."

"Yes, and normal people are asleep at twelve thirty, Bruce. Not that you'd know mister 'Dark Knight'."

The lights of the house suddenly flickered to life, startling the two superheroes. Bruce's expression, however, remained impassive.

In the doorway stood Martha Kent, hands planted firmly on her hips. A smile apparent on her kind, aged face from the sight of her son. Though it quickly faded, only to be replaced with an expression of worry at the sight of (what she could only assume to be) his friend. The two were both speckled with blood and dirt, both uniforms scuffed and torn. The darker clad man leaned heavily on her brightly dressed son. "Clark?"

"Hi Ma," Clark greeted, tone as carefree as ever. Despite being all there was keeping Bruce from meeting the floor face to face at the moment.

"Are you boys alright?" She asked, approaching them. Mom mode activated.

"I'm fine," Clark assured his mother. "Bruce here, however, has been better."

"Kal," Bruce reprimanded. At the sight of Martha, Bruce attempted to steady himself, removing his hand from Clark's shoulder. But he couldn't disguise the pain that reflected in his eyes.

"Like Ma's really going to care that Bruce Wayne is Batman."

"I'm fine Mrs. Kent."

Martha's eyes widened fractionally. This was Batman. The Batman. Batman was Bruce Wayne? Bruce Wayne was in her kitchen. In fact, Bruce Wayne was bleeding all over her pristine, hardwood floor. A steady flow of the red liquid seeping out of a nasty gash in his upper calf. The kevlar armour was ripped and torn away, revealing the agitated skin beneath.

Martha snapped into action. "Set him on the couch, c'mon, c'mon." She ushered the duo into her small, quaint living space. Settling them down into the old couch and flipping on several lamps.

Clark gently lowered Bruce onto the plush article of furniture. Taking special care to not jostle the wound. Bruce grit his teeth and bared through it. Wincing when he finally settled down, propping his leg up on the coffee table.

"What happened to the two of you?" She demanded, heading into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit from under the sink.

Clark looked to his mother, suddenly very tired. "We were ambushed by these robot things thanks to STAR Labs. We weren't expecting so many so Bruce and I went alone." Clark yawned with a shrug. "The farm was closer than any zeta beam and our ship was destroyed. So I flew him here."

Martha nodded, pulling out a wet washcloth and disinfectant.

"We could have handled them just fine if Clark wasn't such a klutz." Bruce shot his friend a patented bat-glare.

"Yeah, well maybe if you weren't so hot headed," Clark snapped, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "There's this little thing the League and I like to call team work. Maybe you've heard of it?"

Bruce's scowl faltered as Martha Kent began peeling his boot off and rolling up his pant leg. He managed, however, to recover quickly. "When did you become so cheeky?"

Clark smirked, "when I started considering you my best friend."

"Mistake number one."

"Like you can talk mister antisocial."

Bruce rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that crept onto his lips, forming a smirk. Bruce wiped at his eyes, he could feel the blood from his head wound creep down his face, tickling the skin. With an agitated sigh Bruce ripped the cowl clean off, tossing it onto the coffee table. Surprising both Kent's in the household.

He began unhooking his cape when he felt the stares boring into him. Upon looking up his suspicion was confirmed, both Kent's stood dumbfounded, goggling at him precariously.

"What?"

Clark shook his head.

There was a small cut on Bruce's forehead, and despite its small stature, it bled fiercely. His pale face was smeared with dirt and blood, dark smudges forming beneath bright eyes.

"Ma can you hand my that towel?"

Martha tossed her son an extra dishrag dampened with disinfectant. Clark moved so that he was sitting on the coffee table before Bruce, "don't move." Bruce did as he was told -for once- and allowed Clark to staunch his bleeding head. There was no point in arguing. He himself couldn't see it, therefor had no way of knowing just how bad it was. And, thankfully, it wasn't too nasty.

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek as he allowed Clark's own mother to clean his leg wound. "I never introduced myself," Bruce spoke up -anything to keep his mind off the pain- his patented Bruce Wayne smile in place. "Bruce Wayne."

Martha smiled and shook his hand, "Martha Kent, just call me Ma."

"Can I just say, its an honour to meet you Mrs. Kent. Clark's told me a lot about you."

"Has he now?"

Bruce smiled, "he's told all of us really. Good things I assure you, mostly about your amazing baking or something along those lines."

Martha chuckled as she continued to clean out Bruce's wound. She was already fairly certain she liked him.

The wound had finally stopped bleeding. So now came the fun part, stitches. "I'm gonna have to warn you Bruce, this is going to hurt."

Bruce gave her a small smile, "nothing I haven't been through before."

Clark handed him a few pain relievers and a glass of water. Bruce excepted them gratefully, he could practically feel his pulse throbbing in his leg.

The only indication that Bruce even felt the needle gliding through his flesh was the soft wince as the silver tip first broke skin. From then on out Bruce could practically ignored it, used to the familiar sting of the needle.

"So about getting home?" Bruce asked. Clark could always fly, but unlike his super powered counterpart, he was tethered to the ground quite permanently without his toys. "I'll call Alfred and have him pick us up in the jet."

"You're not going anywhere just yet, Bruce," Clark interjected. "You can hardly walk. You'll stay the night here."

"Whoa, Boy Scout, I never agreed to that. I have-"

"To get back to Gotham, your city needs you, you're Batman, yada, yada, yada. I'll call Alfred, tell him you won't be home tonight."

"Clark, can you hand me the bandages?"

Clark did as his mother instructed, dismissing the bat-glare Bruce was shooting him as though if he stared hard enough he'd miraculously develop Clark's heat vision. "Bruce, the quicker we get you taken care of the better, Gotham is almost a forty minute flight from Smallville. You're better off just staying here."

It took only a few more minutes for Martha to finish wrapping up Bruce's wounds. None were too serious, but they'd definitely be a bother for a few weeks at the least. Once she'd finished, Martha reheated the kettle and poured three mugs of tea, passing them off to Clark and Bruce.

"Clark, your room is just as you left it, you look exhausted, get some rest." Martha said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe nursing her tea. She smiled at the sight of her son, half asleep with the one and only Batman leaning heavily against him, fast asleep.

Clark yawned, "I can't just leave Bruce down here." Clark smiled when the man in question mumbled in his sleep in response to hearing his name.

"The guest room is still made up from when Kara was staying here," she explained. "He's welcome to stay there. I'm sure some of your clothes should fit him, I can't image that uniform is very comfortable." It was true, kevlar couldn't been all that comfortable. And the two were roughly the same build, Clark being just a touch taller.

Clark nodded absently, "what's with him anyway? It's not like him to actually sleep."

Martha smiled, "well, you've both had a long day. And he may have had a little help."

Clark's eyes widened marginally in recognition. "You drugged Bruce?"

Martha just continued to smile up at her son. She'd slipped it in both their teas. Though it really didn't have much of an effect on Clark's Kryptonian physiology.

"You drugged Batman." Clark shook his head and kissed his mother on the forehead. "Night Ma."

"Goodnight Clark." She watched as Clark scooped a sleeping bat into his arms and flew up the stairs. His tired feet hovering a few inches from the ground.

Now how was Clark supposed to explain to Bruce why he woke up in bright pink, stuffed animal filled room in the morning?


	9. Chapter 9: Bruce Wayne

Chapter 11: Bruce Wayne

"So who's house is it tonight?" Barry asked through a mouthful of bagel and cream cheese. He sat in the small kitchenette his feet propped up on the table. The remaining members, minus the Bat, sat around him snacking on miscellaneous things. Only less, shall we say /rushed/, than the speedster.

Hal shrugged his shoulders, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. Hal, like the most of the League -once again, minus Batman- didn't see the point in keeping their identities from each other. They were a team, and that meant they had to trust one another, right? So how were they meant to trust someone if they didn't even know who the other even was? "Doesn't matter to me. We went to my place last week, I say we head to Central this time."

Barry swallowed, "that works. Iris gets back from New York tonight so you guys can come by after I pick her up from the airport. We should be back before the game starts."

"Do you think we should invite Batman?" Shayera asked, albeit reluctantly. They ventured to ask the brooding bat to come hang during a baseball game once before and it was, unsurprisingly, a -that's right, you guessed it!- no.

"I believe it would be a kind gesture, but do you not think he would decline?" Diana looked about her fellow warriors, all of which seemed to agree with her. It was highly possible that Batman would once again say no. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly.

Hal sighed, resting his head in his hands. "Do you think he even likes baseball?"

"Batman does not seem like the type who would enjoy such frivolous games," Diana piped in once again.

J'onn turned his gaze on Superman, "It is apparent that you know him better than any of us, what do you think?"

Clark smiled grimly, "I wouldn't bet on it."

It was in that moment that Bruce came limping into the Watchtower, pausing as he passed the kitchen. One eyebrow raised precariously beneath his cowl, his eyes narrowed behind the whites of his mask. His grip tightened marginally on the manilla file in his hands.

Hal grinned, "hiya Bats! Ears burning?"

Bruce only grunted and marched on.

"Such the conversationalist," Barry smirked. "I still think we should invite him though. He is part of this team after all."

•••

Bruce grumbled quietly under his breath as he tossed the too thick file down on a countertop in the medical bay. Heaving himself up on the counter after it.

He'd made sure to lock the door as he closed it, allowing himself some moments privacy to pull down his cowl. Revealing a dark purple and black bruise outlining his left eye and cheekbone. As well as a cracked lip that bled freely.

Bruce peeled off both gauntlets as well, placing all three articles beside himself. His right hand was bruised, several fingers broken or at least strained. Not to mention the gash in his leg, it was oozing a steady flow of red liquid and stung with a nasty itch.

He quickly got to work cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Thankful that none were too serious. He'd faced the latest of Arkham's escapees, Dr. Pamela Isley.

Better known to the general public as Poison Ivy.

He wasn't exactly a fan of her work, but he knew she wasn't the most dangerous of villains. She tended to have good intentions, she just typically used a more violent approach to reach her means. In other words, she was one he could actually rationalise with.

Catwoman had followed him when word of Ivy's breakout reached her ears and even helped him past Ivy's henchmen. Could they be called men? They were made of plants. But the point is, she was there. With her tight leather and kevlar, her long legs and slim waist.

Bruce shook his head, clearing it of Miss Kyle. He couldn't help himself, a part of him missed the cat burglar when he wasn't out chasing her tail across Gotham rooftops. Somewhere he'd much rather be, opposed to sitting in the Watchtower Medical Bay wrapping his hand in gauze.

This wasn't how he envisioned his evening going.

•••

The moment the alarm and flashing light in the Watchtower began blaring, Clark's first thought was to alert Bruce. Only problem, no one had heard from the bat since he limped off down the hall over thirty minutes ago.

He was clearly injured, if the limping was anything to go by. The Caped Crusader rarely allowed himself to show emotion let alone his injuries. And Clark saw straight through his mask as well, literally. X-Ray vision tended to come in handy when it came to the Dark Knight. It allowed Clark to see the real man that hid behind the mask.

So after sending the Flash, Green Lantern and Hawkgirl off to deal with Captain Boomerang, Clark marched down the hall with a determined stride. It was quite easy for him to track down Bruce in the Medical Bay.

He opened the locked door easily and was met with a surprising sight. Bruce, dressed in full Batman armour -minus gauntlets and cowl- lay on a medical bed, flat on his stomach and fast asleep.

Clark smiled to himself as a low snore escaped his busted lips. His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, drawing attention to the dark bruise outlining his eye. It was just, so... human.

The small medical bay wasn't exactly the cleanest or most tidy room on the tower any longer. First aid equipment was strewn about the countertops of the dimly lit room. It looked a right mess, something that usually wasn't the Dark Knights style.

Clark's attention was stolen by the thick file in the middle of the messy countertop. Brushing away a stray piece of gauze, Clark carefully opened the manila folder. Careful not to misplace anything, and keep all small slivers and slips of paper in their place, Clark skimmed the file. It took him only a brief moment to remember who Pamela Isley was. No wonder Bruce was so beaten up, Ivy wasn't exactly the most gentle of women.

Bruce stirred in his sleep, his fists clenching in the thin hospital pillow. His brow knit in what could only be pain, physical or mental Clark knew not. He could only assume that him using the bandaged hand was not a good idea.

He carefully shook Bruce's shoulder, causing the older man to rouse from his sleep.

Bleary, icy blue eyes blinked up at the Man of Steel. Bruce sat up on the thin mattress, gripping his head and suppressing a groan. "Clark?"

"Hay Bruce, you alright?" Clark couldn't keep the concern from leaking through.

Bruce managed a nod but regretted the motion almost immediately. The room spun around him, tilting in all sorts of unnatural and nauseating angles. He managed to make it all slow down though, after a moments concentration a several deep breaths. "I'm fine."

Clark smirked, "looks like Ivy did quite the number on you."

Bruce glared halfheartedly at what Alfred considered the closest thing Bruce had to a friend. "I'll be fine."

Clark sighed, scowling at his shoes. "Of course, you're allowed to act human you know?"

Bruce's glare hardened.

Clark was suddenly struck with an idea "The League's all going to Barry's tonight to watch the game. They want you to come, they just haven't gained the courage to invite you yet."

Bruce, dare he say, looked interested.

"They all like you, you know, I don't see why you don't ever take the opportunity to join in on their team bonding."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow, "'team bonding'?"

Clark shrugged his caped shoulders innocently.

Bruce pushed himself away from the bed of stingy white sheets and grabbed his gauntlets, balancing himself with the ledge of the countertop. He pulled them both on, ignoring the snugness created by the bandages. "I have more important things to do than engage in childish activities."

Bruce grabbed his cowl and pulled it on over his head.

"You were just asleep, I'd say you have plenty of free time."

Bruce growled, actually growled, at Clark. "I'm busy, Superman." With that he stormed out of the room in all his cape clad glory.

Clark sighed, "what in Sam Hell has gotten him in such a bad mood?" He asked, eliciting no response from the empty room.

•••

"I bought chicken wings!"

And that was Hal Jordan's way of announcing his arrival at the Allen residence.

Hal nearly dropped his bucket of wings as a redhead suddenly came bounding around the corner. Wrapping her small arms around his shoulders. "Hello Hal!"

"Hi Iris, how was the East coast?" Hal smiled down at the shorter woman dressed in a Central City Stars jersey, genuinely happy to see her.

"Oh, ya know, cold." She smiled a toothy smile up at her husband's long time friend.

In a quick blur, Barry was suddenly at her side, an arm wrapped around her waist. "Hey Hal, I'll take those." He said politely taking the bucket from his friend's arms and darting into the kitchen.

Hal stepped aside, revealing a rather casually dressed Hawkgirl. "Iris this is Shayera, also known as Hawkgirl."

Shayera smiled politely at her fellow red head, "you can just call me Shay."

"It's great to finally meet you, Barry's told me a lot about you." Iris shook her hand, a grin stretching across her pink lips.

"Has he now?"

"All good stuff I assure you," Iris laughed, "the League's all he talks about. You should see him struggle for a conversation topic around his friends that don't know about the whole vigilante shtick."

Within minutes of Hal's arrival, the rest of the League filed into the Allen home. Soon the small, quaint living room was packed with meta humans and vigilantes. Even J'onn had shown up in his human guise, a well dressed dark skinned man. The group huddled around the outdated television, the coffee table littered with varying snacks and drinks.

Barry sat squashed between Iris and Hal on the jammed packed piece of furniture. Shayera sitting on Hal's opposite side.

The game had just began when there was a sudden rapping at the front door. The group was so entranced with the television, even Clark's enhanced hearing hadn't heard the culprit approaching.

Barry heaved a sigh and shot to his feet, "I'll get it." He was at the door in under a second, pulling it open by its old brass knob. "Hey, what can I do for ya?"

An unfamiliar gentleman, dressed in worn -but expensive- jeans and a designer button up stood on his front door step. Hands stuffed in his pockets, dark hair ruffled by wind. The most notable feature of the man, however, was the dark bruise that ran along his cheek, obscuring his handsome face. /Did this guy get mugged or something?/ Barry wondered. He looked adamantly out of place in the quaint little neighbourhood.

"Barry," be said in a way of greeting.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Barry pressed, utterly perplexed.

"It's me... Batman?"

/Okay, what?/ "Bats?!" Barry sputtered.

Bruce blinked, "yes. Just said that."

Barry gaped. "Yeah, no, I heard you it's just... What are you doing here?!" He waved his hand around almost frantically, "like that!?"

"Alfred kicked me out, so-"

"Who?"

"Butler."

Okay this was just too good. "You're butler kicked you out?"

Bruce rolled his -stunningly blue, Barry had never seen his eyes before- eyes. "More or less."

Barry smirked, "I sense a story behind this but I'm afraid to ask."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. They were decidedly less broad outside of the bat suit. "It's not an interesting story anyway."

"Right," Barry seemed to snap right out of his little trance. "Well, come in, I guess." He didn't sound too certain.

Barry led the man behind the mask around the corner and into his home. Unable to shake the odd feeling of seeing the Bat without the mask on.

Everyone in the room blinked at the newcomer. "Hey guys, I found Batman!" Barry couldn't keep a hint of pride and joy out of his voice. He felt oddly accomplished at seeing the real Batman.

Quiet.

Clark was the first to break the shocked silence. "Bruce? Well, this is a surprise."

Bruce silently marched across the room (it was more of a mope really) and sat down on the carpeted floor beside Clark. "Yeah, well, Alfred kicked me out of the Manor. He said I needed to "socialise."" He replied with a shrug. He hadn't meant to drive the old man crazy with his brooding, it just sorta happened.

Shayera was quick to recover from the initial shock. She shook her head, "did I hear that right, manor? Who are you?" She meant it as more of a rhetorical question, a joke really, but...

"Bruce Wayne."

Hal took a swig of his beer, "who the hell is Bruce Wayne?"

Barry blinked, mumbling to himself, "well this is unexpected."

Diana didn't seem to understand the implication of just who Bats truly was. Being a stranger to man's world, the information coming to light had next to no effect on her. "How did you know we were here?" She wondered, truly curious.

Barry perked up as well, "yeah, how'd you know it was my place?"

"I too am curious," J'onn commented. The group looked expectantly at Bruce.

Bruce rolled his eyes again and Barry couldn't help but wonder just how often he did that under his cowl. "Barry, you have one of the loudest mouths I've ever heard on a human."

Hal snickered.

"Plus, Clark told me."

"How'd you get here?" Shayera inquired.

What was this Interrogate Batman Day?

"Please tell me you didn't land the Batjet -or whatever you call that contraption- in the backyard." Iris seemed legitimately concerned by the possibility.

Bruce jerked his head towards the window, "I drove," he said simply enough. In the drive sat a beautiful, jet black Rolls-Royce. The expensive antique looked even more out of place than its driver as the sunlight flittered off its reflective surface.

"Yeah that won't draw attention," Barry deadpanned.

"That's almost as bad as you flying the jet," Clark only half joked. But his lips curved skyward just the slightest all the same.

J'onn cleared his throat, stirring the team from their thoughts. "I believe the game has returned," he spoke, just as the first commercial break drew to a close. The screen focussing back in on America's favourite pastime.

"Who's playing?" Bruce asked, grabbing a beer for himself from the cooler beside the coffee table.

"Central City Stars and Gotham Knights," Clark confirmed, taking a swig of his own drink and smiling knowingly.

Bruce quirked a brow, "that's tonight?" Maybe he really did need a vacation. Exhaustion was the only excuse for how he could forget a Knights game? The shame.

"You actually follow Baseball?"

"Shaddup Boy Scout," Bruce quipped, taking a careful sip of his drink.

The night dragged on, the mitch-match bunch chatted and laughed amongst one another. Bruce would even go as far as to say it was pleasant. Enjoyable even. Who knew?

Hal, on the other hand, was still at a loss. "Seriously, who's Bruce Wayne?"


	10. Chapter 10: Car Crash

**Car Crash**

**Dick age 18 (been Nightwing for a year) **

**Jason 14 (Been Robin for a few months)**

* * *

><p>Jason woke with a gasp, his head pounding a fierce rhythm against his -possibly cracked- skull. Peeling his eyes open his vision swam, and why in god's name was everything upside down? Surly that wasn't normal.<p>

Jason moaned and swallowed against the rising nausea. Please don't puke, god, please do not puke, he silently pleaded with himself. He definitely had a concussion, pretty serious one by the feel of it. He just hoped he could get out of this mess before he inevitably lost consciousness.

Question: what exactly was this mess?

It took only seconds for him to deduce that he was in a car, but what car? Oh that's right, he stole it. Stupid brain catch up! And the damned safety-belt digging into his chest really wasn't helping his concentration in the slightest. Bloody hell, who where those retched things helping?

Twisting in the seat he managed to reach around and unbuckle the seatbelt. Jason cried out in pain as he slid from the seat and smacked his head on the car roof. Sending a blinding pain through his already busted and bleeding head and causing his stomach to churn with a murderous ferocity.

He needed to get out of here ASAP. Upside down in a mangled car really wasn't the best place to be with a concussion of all things. And the sent of blood was only making him feel more woozy.

Jason tried using his hands to push and drag himself out of the drivers seat and out either the busted door or shattered windshield.

"Ahhh!" White hot pain shot through his left arm and up to his shoulder at the slightest attempt of moving it. "Damn it!" he hissed breathlessly. It was useless, without his arm there was no way he could drag himself out of this damned car.

With his good arm Jason quickly located his cell in his jacket pocket. Sliding it out effortlessly. At least one thing could be painless today. He fumble with the buttons, hoping he at least sent Gordon English. Though it was very possible his muddled mind sent it in French, which would be terribly awkward not to mention it wouldn't be even remotely helpful.

Though it would be Bruce's fault, he was the one who sighed him up for French lessons. Said he needed to be more diverse, or something along those lines. After the text was sent he let the phone slip from his blood slicked grip and clatter to the floor slash roof. Letting himself fall into oblivion there after it.

* * *

><p>Bruce didn't think much of it when he got home and flipped the television to the news channel only to hear the drab anchor man, Jack Rider, blab on about some car accident along the outskirts of Gotham. Followed up by the weather. Which was pretty dull as well. Because get this, it was gonna snow.<p>

In December.

Shocker!

But he couldn't really complain, so far he'd had a pretty good week. Arrested three criminals, locked up the Penguin, made front page of the paper. Even managed to get Lex Luthor to back off. Which meant that Wayne Enterprises could finally go about business as usual. That man was insufferable.

But still, good week.

That is until one Commissioner Gordon decided to give a call, phoning Bruce in the middle of one of his rare relaxing moments where neither Bruce Wayne nor Batman were needed. Setting his coffee mug down he quickly answered the call.

"Hay Jim," he answered still in as good a mood as ever.

"Bruce, it's Jason."

And there goes the good mood, right out the window and landing on the rose garden below with a SPLAT. Yeah he really didn't like where this conversation was headed. No conversation that even started remotely like that ever ended well. For anyone.

"What did he do?" Though he really wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"He got involved in a high speed chase while going after a criminal," Gordon began to explain. However illegal the act was he couldn't help sounding slightly impressed. As though he had to remind himself this was Jason, not Robin. "Naturally," what was he supposed to say? I mean, course he did. And of course it involved chasing a criminal. It was really difficult to surprise Bruce these days.

"Well it didn't end so well."

Suddenly that news report from earlier wasn't seeming quite so drab.

"I don't know all the details but, it ended with Jason rolling the vehicle several times before landing in a ditch."

"He did what?!" Okay now Bruce was concerned. He felt sick to his stomach even. Bruce was no stranger to fear, but whenever the old feeling wrapped it's icy hands around his stomach, it took him by surprise. "Where did Jason even get a car?"

"He stole it." Jim said simply. As if it were the most plausible thing ever. Though with Jason it wasn't all that shocking.

"Right."

"From a criminal."

Bruce sighed and dragged a hand down his face. This was just fantastic, though he had to give him props for stealing from a criminal. So you know, it could be worse. "Of course he did. Well is he alright at least?"

"He was conscious long enough to shoot me a text with his location but he was out cold by the time we got to him." Jim explained. "Doc says he has a concussion and a few broken bones but should be fine in the long haul."

Bruce nodded and sighed. Stupid teenagers. "Alright, I'll be right down."

* * *

><p>"I don't see why you're so mad."<p>

"Really!?" Bruce eyed Jason from the foot of the hospital bed. Arms crossed over his chest. The boy in question looked awful, bandaged head, pale skin. If he was any more white he'd disappear, he was already the colour of the cheap, scratchy sheets. "You rolled a car. Repeatedly. Which wasn't even yours."

"Well there's no reason to be upset about it." Jason just shrugged it off, "it's not like it's the worse thing I've ever done."

True.

"And you do have the tendency to overreact."

"Jason, you could have died!"

Jason heaved a sigh, "why do you even care!?"

Bruce felt as though someone had just physically hit him in the gut.

"You're not my father, all you care about is the fact I broke your precious laws."

Bruce ground his teeth, "you weren't even dressed as Robin! Jim had to make up a cover story for you, he risked his job doing that."

A flicker of hidden emotion flashed through the boy's emerald green eyes. He couldn't quite identify what, it was gone all too quickly. "He didn't have to do that," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

"Well if he didn't Jason, it would be only a matter of time until they figured the rest out. It's not just you, it's me, Dick, Barbara. Alfred! You put us all at risk." What did he have to do to get this boy to understand?

He sighed, rubbing his forehead just above his eyes. "Jason, I don't care about the car. I don't."

That got his attention. Jason hesitantly looked up at the man.

"I care that you put your own life in danger."

"Why?" his voice cracked on the single syllable. Jason clenched his jaw, why did Bruce care?

Bruce carefully sat on the end of Jason's hospital bed. Blue eyes met green. "Why would you think that? Jason I- well, I don't expect you to- I'm not trying to replace your father." Why was he having such a hard time formulating a sentence?

Jason rolled his eyes. Replace his dad? What dad? He'd practically raised himself.

"But, I think of you as my son. I care for you Jason, I care what happens to you. If I somehow made you think otherwise, I'm so sorry. That wasn't my intention at all." He knew he'd been distant lately. But in his defense he had an awful lot going on. Business with both Wayne Enterprises and Batman. On top of that there was Dick. The eight teen year old moved out only a few short months ago and the two hadn't exactly recovered from their fight yet. Not that that was an excuse.

Jason didn't deserve excuses.

He'd been delt enough of them through his life.

Jason bowed his head, focusing on his feet. He drew a shaky breath, " I'm sorry Bruce. I- I didn't mean... I'm sorry." Jason didn't expect forgiveness for his rashness. He wouldn't even be surprised if Bruce suspended him indefinitely from Robin duties. He had been a brash idiot. He didn't think for a second how his actions would effect Bruce, let alone Alfred. He knew chasing after a known convict in his civilian identity was risky, but he thought he could handle it.

"I know you are kido," Bruce ran his hand through Jason's auburn locks, brushing stray strands from his face. "You had me worried is all. I know you can handle yourself, your a tough kid."

Against his will, a smile tugged at his lips, "you've got that right."

* * *

><p><strong>My first Jason story! Yes! I hope you all liked it. I had this idea for awhile and thought it was more something that Jay would do rather than Dick, so let me know how you liked it. Please review and let me know your thoughts.<strong>


	11. Chapter 11: Star City

**Star City**

**Dick age 11**

**I don't know if you guys have watched Arrow on the CW, but if not, I'm sorry. I like it a LOT and I've used several characters from the show. I'm using Felicity Smoak, Diggle, and Thea. If you don't know, Felicity and Diggle know Olli is Arrow. Felicity is the techy girl who works for Queen Consolidating and Diggle is his body guard. Both of these characters were originally in comics, but not specifically connected to Green Arrow. And Thea is his little sis. She doesn't know he's Arrow. Or that Roy is Speedy. Basically everything else is the same.**

* * *

><p>"Where are we going?"<p>

Bruce felt his lips twitch upward at the winy tone coming from the child at his right. "Star City."

"Why?"

"Green Arrow asked for our assistance."

"Why?"

Bruce sighed, shooting a headlong look at his partner in the passenger side seat of the Batmobile. "Because," he remarked with a smile. It was probably bad, but sometimes he really enjoyed torturing the kid. And really, what sort of parent would he be if he didn't?

"Our assistance, or yours?" He wondered.

Bruce glanced over at Dick briefly. "He specifically requested that I bring you along."

Dick sighed dramatically and slouched in his seat. The safety belt coming up to his chin as he slid down the suede material. He was remarkably short for his age, even for an eleven year old he was small. "But Star City's over an hour away."

He smirked, "well I guess you better get comfortable then."

If at all possible, Dick slouched further in his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled under his breath, "I hate road trips."

* * *

><p>A frantic Felicity Smoak came bounding into what she'd dubbed, the 'Super Secret Vigilante Hideout.' Her blonde hair swished as her heels clacked across the concrete floor, she gripped a manilla folder tightly in her dainty hands. He bright pink nail polish and matching lipstick stood out against her pale skin.<p>

"Oliver!" she hollered.

Both Ollie and Diggle looked up at the frizzled woman. Oliver Queen sat on the silver operating table, shirt removed and torso wrapped with bandages and gauze that stood out in stark contrast against his tanned flesh. Diggle stood, hovering over him, finishing his wrapping of Oliver's recent wounds.

"Yes Felicity?" He asked calmly.

She wrung her hands nervously. "There's a large, black vehicle parked out back. I- I think it's the Batmobile." Even she couldn't believe what she had just said.

Roy Harper, better known as Speedy, looked up at the blonde as well. Rising from his stupor, he pushed himself away from the chair he had been sat in for a good fifteen minutes. He looked to his mentor, something akin to excitement in the red head's eyes.

Oliver sighed, "yes that would be Batman. Don't worry, I asked him to come up."

"You asked for the Bat's help?" Roy blanched.

"Well obviously we need it! Brick nearly killed us today!" Oliver was quick to defend himself against his fifteen year old ward.

"_You_, he nearly killed _you_. I had it under control."

"You're five feet tall and a hundred pounds," Ollie deadpanned. "You really think you could have taken on Danny Brickwell by yourself? The mans made of concrete!"

Roy huffed and threw himself back down into his chair with an eye roll. "Point taken."

"But why Batman?" Diggle questioned. "Isn't there someone, I don't know, with super strength perhaps, you could have asked?"

"Listen," Ollie stated, "I'm not a part of the Justice League, I don't really know them, I don't have those connections, okay? And I trust Batman."

Felicity swallowed, she had a habit of reading between the lines. "You didn't?"

"I-"

"Oliver, tell me you didn't."

"I may have told him who I am."

"You told Batman?!" Great, now Diggle was mad at him too.

"If it's any consolation, I know who he is too!"

Felicity sighed, resigned, "I'll go let him in."

* * *

><p>She'd never felt more awkward in her entire twenty eight years of life. And she'd been in some pretty awkward situations.<p>

But nothing could compare to allowing a man dressed as a Bat and his- um, sidekick?- through the back entrance of her boss's nightclub. And then proceed to lead him through said nightclub and down several flights of stairs. Through several locked doors. And then into the 'Super Secret Vigilante Hideout.'

Little was said in that span of time. They shared hello's and little more.

Oliver sprang to his feet as Felicity reentered the room, the tall, dark figure of the Batman lingering behind her. A smile spread across his face and he approached his friend. "Thanks for coming out."

Bruce, too, was smiling -if only slightly- as he pulled down his cowl, shocking the small bird at his side. "My pleasure."

The two shook hands politely, just as they would in closing a business deal. Only more familiar and oddly friendly. Felicity, embarrassingly, failed to hold in her gasp. This was Bruce Wayne! She knew Bruce Wayne, everyone at Queen Consolidating knew Bruce Wayne! Ollie and Bruce had held several charity galas together just over the past few months. Despite this, Felicity had only ever spoke with him once or twice.

Bruce smiled charmingly at Felicity, "good to see you again Ms. Smoak."

"Mr. Wayne, I um, y-you too." With a wide, shocked expression she turned to Diggle. Who only returned a similar expression it his own.

Dick tugged on Bruce's cape, momentarily requesting his attention. He spoke in a low, barely audible whisper, "_Batman_?" Dick wasn't so sure about this whole situation. The only people he took his cowl off around was him, Alfred, Doctor Leslie and uncle Clark.

With a reassuring smile, Bruce turned to Dick. "It's alright Dick, you can trust Oliver and his friends."

Dick swallowed, letting his father's words sink in. And when Bruce used that self-assured tone, well, it was difficult not to trust him.

Oliver beamed down at the kid, "is this Robin? I was beginning to wonder when you'd let me meet him. I didn't think you'd actually bring him along." Oliver turned to the brightly clad child at the Bat's side and extended his hand. "Oliver Queen, aka Green Arrow, or Arrow, or occasionally the Hood. Sometimes the Vigilante. It really depends who you talk to. You can just call me Ollie though."

Dick shook the proffered hand, if not hesitantly, smiling politely up at the blonde man. "Dick Grayson."

"And this is Roy Harper, my partner Speedy." Oliver stepped aside, allowing a reluctant Roy to step up.

The red headed boy seemed indifferent to the whole situation playing out before him, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. Though Oliver could clearly see the thrill in his eyes. He hid it well behind his schooled expression. "Nice to meet yah."

Oliver clasped his hands together loudly. "Great, now that that's out of the way, Brick."

Bruce nodded, "do you have any leads?"

"We tracked his last known location to the south end," Felicity explained. "And by 'we' I mean me."

"But when we went after him it was a set up," Diggle added. "Oliver nearly got himself killed."

"If it wasn't for Dig, I'd pry be at the bottom of the river."

Bruce nodded, "that sounds about right."

"Hay!" Ollie scowled at the Bat. "It's not like me nearly dying is a common occurrence!"

"Yeah, it happens no more than once a week," Roy provided with a smile.

"Thank you- _wait_, Roy, you're supposed to be on my side!"

Dick allowed himself a small smile at the sight of the two crime fighters bickering. It was amusing, and resembled remarkably the type of behaviour he and his mentor exhibited in the others presence. Only the bats tended to keep outward emotional expression to a minimum in public.

"We did manage, however, to find his real base of operations, or whatever thugs call their hideouts." Felicity interjected, gaining Bruce's full attention. "It's only a few miles from the docs."

"Alright, let's head out." Oliver jumped into action. He slipped his shirt back on, barely managing to hide a wince as he tugged on his wounds. Stretching barely healed cuts.

"Ollie, are you sure you should-?"

"I'm fine Roy," Oliver snapped. "Like you said, this happens frequently. I'll live."

"Oliver you really shouldn't," Felicity said, agreeing with Roy.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him," Bruce said reassuringly. Shooting the young women a patented Bruce Wayne smile.

Felicity seemed to ponder this, eventually giving a single bounce of her head. "Fine, but if Brick breaks you in half, I told you so."

* * *

><p><em>"I told you so!<em>" The shriek that escape the tiny woman was rather impressive actually.

"Felicity, it's not as bad as it looks."

Bruce ground his teeth, "I told you I could handle it Oliver."

Dick and Roy stood silently beside the far wall. Roy with his arms crossed and forehead creased in what could only be concern for his mentor and father figure.

The two boys could only watch, having been told to stay put on a distant roof top, as their mentors took on Brick.

They hadn't been idly standing by of course, they had plenty of thugs to toy with. Both found joy in the simple pleasure of jumping out at armed thugs and kicking heir ass's.

But all the same, they could only watch as the real action went down. Batman was about to apprehend Brick, but unknowingly there was a sniper on the opposite roof. Ollie, being the man he was, was not about to let the Bat be shot. He jumped in front of the bullet, taking a hit to the shoulder.

"You could have died!" Bruce barked.

"It's my shoulder, I'll be fine!" Oliver rolled his eyes, watching as Diggled bandaged his bleeding arm. A grim look on the former Marines face.

"If you were a halfsecond sooner, it would have hit you in the chest Oliver," Bruce ground through clenched teeth.

Ollie just blinked. Bruce really cared, like actually cared whether he died.

"Wow, um, okay. I wasn't aware you cared so much," Oliver smirked. "Barry always makes you sound so heartless."

"Shut up Ollie," Bruce bit back, "yes, of course I care if you die."

"That's oddly comforting."

"Don't get used to it."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it's late. The next one should be up soon as well. As always, please review or leave any suggestions for future chapters. <strong>


	12. Chapter 12: April Showers

**April Showers**

**Dick 8 (not yet Robin/ has only lived with Bruce for a few months)**

The weather of Gotham City was known to be harsh and unpredictable, especially on the spring And this year's April showers were no exception. Thick, heavy raindrops bombarded the old, think windows of Wayne Manor. Not sounding unlike a platoon of soldiers obediently marching onward.

Loud, echoing claps of thunder, followed by blindingly bright steaks of lightening, littered the night sky.

Typically, the noise of the storm would keep the more paranoid resident of the manor up. But not tonight, he was just too exhausted.

But don't get the wrong idea. He may have slept through the storm, but he didn't sleep soundly. Far from it actually.

Bruce tossed and turned in his king sized bed. His limbs tangled in the Peruvian sheets, sticking to him with sweat.

It had become rather rare that the billionaire slept through the night these days. His fears and concerns came to life in his tortured mind at night. His greatest fears plagued his sleep, refusing to allow him a moment of well deserved peace.

A strangled moan slipped past his parted lips, his fists tightened their grip on the pillow sheet.

* * *

><p>Small, socked feet padded down the dark corridor of Wayne Manor. The harsh wind just outside caused a tree branch to beat against the window in the hall. That and the shadow it cast in the moonlight startled young Dick Grayson.<p>

He quickly scurried down the hall, stoping only when he came to the familiar oak doors of the master suite.

Carefully he stretched up to reach it. His small, childlike fingers only barely able to push the doors open.

Silently, he slipped inside. Peering around the large room, ignoring the eerie shadows casted by the lightening. Making even the shadow of a lamp shade look threatening. The thick, maroon curtains blocked out most of the lighting anyway. Keeping the storm at bay.

Bruce's form was barely noticeable on the bed in which he slept. He seemed incredibly smaller when he slept, younger even. Though come to think of it, Dick hadn't the slightest clue how old Bruce was. In his mind, anyone old enough to live on their own was old, so...

Dick jumped nearly a foot in the air at a sudden clap of thunder. Causing what felt like the whole banner to shake beneath him.

It rattled him to his core.

Struck with a sudden bone chilling fear, Dick scampered over to Bruce's bedside. Clamping the satin sheets with his tiny fists.

"Bruce?"

The older man only gave a soft moan in response. His grip tightening marginally on the sheets.

Another crack of thunder caused Dick to whimper, flinging his small body up into Bruce's bed.

Bruce shot up, "what's goin' on?!" His head shot around, sleep ridden eyes landing on Dick's small form. "Hay Dickie."

Dick glanced up at his foster father sheepishly with wide, watery eyes. He scooted back into Bruce. "Sorry," he apologised weakly. Knowing he didn't truly mean it.

Bruce allowed a small smile to grace his lips, "it's okay Chum. The storm scare you?"

Dick nodded meekly, a little unsure. Was he allowed to? Was that really an option?

Bruce simply smiled at the eight year old who'd climbed into his arms. "You wanna sleep here?" He asked. Glancing at the bedside clock he could see it was nearly four in the morning. He'd have to be up soon, but he figured allowing Dick a few hours of peaceful sleep would be better than none.

"Alright Chum," Bruce scooted over enough to allow Dick room to slip beneath the covers.

Dick buried himself in Bruce's chest. His small hands gripping the thin material of Bruce's shirt. He'd shirk closer as the harsh storm waging just on the other side of the sturdy manor walls made itself known through echoing claps of thunder.

But as the storm weakened, so did Dick's fear. In a matter of minutes, he was fast asleep, the duo rested peacefully until the morning light came peaking over the horizon.


	13. Chapter 13: Tim Drake

**History Fair**

**Tim age 13**

**Been Robin for a few months**

Tim Drake sat alone -nothing unusual there- on an old park bench. The rotting wood was once a vibrant red, the ageing paint now flaky and dispersed. It was early September, school had just started a few weeks ago, though to Tim it felt much longer. He sat there, quietly, bundled in a thin jacket and pristine penny loafers. The tie of his Gotham Academy uniform hung loosely around his neck. He hated the damn thing.

Tim had been sitting there since school was let out, letting his mind wander and to organise his thoughts.

There was a school history fair coming up, something Tim was all too eager to participate in. He was one of the rare children who actually enjoyed school, for the most part at least. But that could just be because it gave him somewhere to go rather than home.

Only problem, his parents weren't exactly the understanding type. They were more the 'go ask the butler' type people. Which left Tim clueless on how to approach the topic of buying supplies for his assignment. He hated asking the butler for things. He hated asking anyone for things. For a rich kid, coming from one of Gotham's richest families, he really was quite modest.

It was getting late, roughly four o'clock. Typically not a time considered too late, but still not the best time of day for a thirteen year old to sit alone in a park. Especially in Gotham City.

With a sigh, Tim pushed himself off the park bench. The autumn chill nipping his nose as he pulled his jacket tighter and made his way down the sidewalk. A few leaves blowing across his path. He had no problem hailing a cab and in a matter of minutes was on his way to the Drake residence.

Only he never did arrive.

As the cab approached Wayne Manor an idea struck young Timothy. "Stop the cab," Tim called to the middle aged man behind the steering wheel.

With a nod, the cabbie slowed the vehicle to a stop in front of the old mansion.

Tim quickly grabbed his backpack and hopped out of the taxi. He jogged up the several short flights of stairs until he reached the front doors of the enormous home, panting and out of breath. Tim pulled himself together, fixing his tie and flattening his dark hair.

Tim gently pressed the door ringer, hearing the buzz echo through the house. It was only a manner of seconds before one of the doors pulled open just a crack, revealing the aged face of the Wayne family butler.

"Hi Alfred."

"Master Timothy," Alfred said with a smile. He stepped aside, pulling the door open fully and allowing Tim to enter. "It is good to see you. Master Bruce is in the living room."

"Thank you Alfred," Tim entered the house feeling just a little out of place. The only noise being that of his expensive shoes clicking against the hardwood and the faint hum of the television ahead.

Tim could see Bruce were he lay across the couch. The man looked asleep upon first glance, his arms draped over his eyes and his socked feet propped up on the arm of the sofa. But Tim knew better. He knew the Bat was only resting, his trained ears focused intently on the news as it played across the television screen.

"Mr. W-" Tim cleared his throat, "uh, Bruce?" He still wasn't fully accustomed to calling his neighbour and the Prince of Gotham by his first name.

Bruce rubbed his eyes and sat up, his suit rumpled and tie hanging loosely around his neck. "Hey Tim," Bruce smiled down at the boy.

"Uh, hi. You look exhausted." Tim commented, allowing a small smirk to grace his lips, his keen eyes picking up the dark smudges beneath Bruce's blue-grey eyes.

Bruce smirked, running a hand through his wiley hair in a pointless attempt to tame it. "Well I've been busy."

Tim arched a brow, "Bruce Wayne or Batman?" He asked, tossing his book bag on the floor beside the armchair and pulling himself into the seat afterwords.

"Both actually. Clark doesn't seem to see the need for sleep. Neither does Lucius apparently." Bruce drug his hands down his face, trying to wake himself up.

Tim continued to smirk.

"So what can I do for you Tim? Shouldn't you be at home, doing homework?" Bruce wondered. "You have that English test tomorrow and you and I both know you suck at grammar."

Tim blinked, utterly amazed Bruce remembered a thing he'd told him about school. Let alone cared even! "Uh, yeah. Yeah I do, it's just..."

Bruce's brows furrowed, "what is it Tim?"

"I have this big history project coming up, it's a pretty big chunk of my grade."

"Well that's great isn't is? You love history class."

Once again, there was Bruce, actually caring about him. "Yeah, um," Tim swallowed. Feeling a sudden combination of both shy and nervous. "I was just wandering if you'd like to come to the presentation. It's this big National History Day fair thing we're having in the gymnasium."

Bruce smiled warmly at the child, "of course I'll come."

"You will!?" Tim bit his tongue, "I mean, uh, I didn't think you'd really be interested."

Bruce wasn't sure why Tim seemed so surprised by that. He brushed it off and replied, "we're partners now Tim. That makes you family. And of course I'm interested, you're a genius. You're projects going to be the best."

Tim felt a pang in his chest, a feeling he couldn't exactly identify with. It was foreign and alien to him. Was this what it felt like to have someone care? To be part of a family?

Tim ducked his head and swiped a tear from spilling down his cheek, hoping Bruce hadn't seen.

He had. Nothing gets past Batman after all.

Bruce gently lifted Tim's chin, blue eyes meeting bluer. Tim absently wondered when Bruce had left the couch, for he was now squatting down before Tim's armchair. "You okay Tim?"

The thirteen year old nodded, feeling his cheeks flush with what he could only imagine to be slight embarrassment. "I- I'm fine, I just... I didn't realise you cared. Mom and Dad have never really..."

Bruce sighed, mentally cursing the carelessness and frivolity of Jack and Janet Drake. "Of course I care Tim, you may have only been Robin for a few months, but you've been family for longer."

Tim gave him a watery smile before throwing himself at the billionaire. Wrapping his small arms tightly around his neck. "Thank you," he mumbled into his shoulder.

Bruce, recovering from the initial shock rather quickly, and just wrapped his own arms around the boy. If he could take him in permanently, he would.

Tim untangled himself and stood, looking up at Bruce. "You should head home," Bruce spoke, "I'm sure your parents are worried." He knew it was a bitter lie the second he spoke it. He doubted the Drake's even knew what time Tim got out of school. Or cared.

Tim wanted to scoff but bit his tongue and refrained himself. He may have a house and parents, but they were hardly a home and family.

Tim just nodded, "okay." He grabbed his book bag and made for the foyer. "Thank you Bruce."

Bruce followed him to the door where Alfred was waiting patiently. A smile on his face. "If you'll follow me Master Timothy, I have a car waiting."

* * *

><p><strong>I've never written Tim before and thought it was about time. I love him, so let me know how I did. I'll pry do more of him. I enjoy writing him. And I'll pry do a Damian one eventually to. <strong>

**Im really sorry this is so late. But I have like a week and a half left of school so hopefully I'll get quite and few out over the break.**

**And I know this was short, but the next will pry be longer. Hopefully.**

**Please review and pitch ideas.**


	14. Chapter 14: Blood Son

**Chapter 17: Blood Son**

**Damian age 10**

**Been Robin for a few months**

"When can we talk about the Westborrow account?" One of the many Wayne Industries employees following closely behind Bruce asked.

"Soon," was the vague reply he received.

"You have an opening this afternoon at-"

"Not that soon."

"I hear Lex Corp is ready to pounce if we don't," another man -Jeremy, maybe?- butted in.

"And where did you hear that!?" Vanessa Steinbeck pried.

"It's on the street," Jeremy replied. "Carlton was in Metropolis last week, he and Lexington saw it."

"Does no one understand the meaning of a confidentiality agreement!?" She practically screeched.

Bruce was listening -really, he was- he just had other, more important, things on his mind than Lex Luther and his ridiculous company. Like the son he was only recently aware of having for instance. Or maybe his other son -adopted son- that he was actually talking to again.

Bruce pulled out his mobile as it spasmed in his suit pocket. Slipping it out seamlessly he saw he had a text.

From Alfred.

Never a good sign. The man typically preferred to do things face to face. He hardly ever called or texted.

'He's gone', was all it read.

Vague.

Yet, clear enough.

Bruce cursed under his breath. This was becoming a habit of Damian's, disappearing right from under his nose.

"Mr. Wayne, you have to call Westborrow," Vanessa huffed.

Huh, was she really still going on about that?

Bruce simply nodded, not exactly registering what she'd said. He picked up speed as he headed towards his office. Penny loafers clicking against polished marble. He tossed the large, double doors open. His racing mind stopped dead at the sight it was greeted with.

"What the hell?" One of his employees shouted in shock.

"How did he get in here!?" Bellowed another.

There, sitting in Bruce's chair, behind his desk, messing with his computer, in his office, sat his son. Feet propped up and a smug look splayed across his young, childishly rounded face. "The profit margin is still down in Argentina," he announced turning the computer monitor towards Bruce and the employees gathered in the door way. "Someone's still skimming revenue."

"Still?" Vanessa seemed to have recovered from the initial shock. Now more focused on the Argentina issue. "Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce spun on his heels, "it's alright, I'll deal with it." With that, he shut his doors with a gentle click. Leaving a huddle of confused employees on the other side.

"What are you doing?" Bruce managed, absolutely dumbfounded yet a little bit proud. "How do you manage to keep getting in here."

"A playground has more security,

Father," Damian quipped.

Bruce scowled and treaded over towards his desk and son.

"Really, it's not that difficult," Damian continued. "All I have to do is tell the receptionist I'm Bruce Wayne's son."

Bruce sighed, running a calloused hand through his thick, mused hair. He failed to hide his stupid smile though, he just couldn't help it! His son, his flesh and blood, his spitting image, was -well- just like him at that age.

More or less.

There was always that violent streak of his that just screamed League of Assassins.

Anyway, Bruce couldn't even count how many times he'd snuck into his father's office when he was little. And even after that he was a pain in the ass for Alfred to keep track of.

Damian glanced down at his hands folded neatly in his lap before looking back up at Bruce. "I was getting bored at the Manor," he mumbled.

Bruce nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. A thoughtful expression in place. "I was going to head home around three, but..." Bruce sighed, "I suppose I could leave now."

Damian gazed up at Bruce, trying to hide his blithe. "I fail to see how that would make the house any less boring. You're not exactly a fun guy. No offence father."

Bruce huffed a laugh and shook his head.

Then an idea struck him.

"I have to head to Metropolis tonight."

"Metropolis?" Damian rose an incredulous eyebrow. "Isn't that Superman's city?" He inquired, arms folding neatly across his chest. Bruce couldn't help but notice it as another of their similarities.

"He called and asked for me to come down. You're coming with me," he decided.

Damian blanched, "why would I want to go with you to _Metropolis_?"

"Think of it as a learning experience," Bruce offered, "for Robin."

Damian rolled his eyes, keeping up the appearance of indifference. Though, on the inside, he had to admit that he was excited. If only a little. He was going to meet Superman! Even he couldn't deny that that was pretty cool. "Fine, I'll go on your little field trip."

"Be in the Cave, in costume, at six o'clock sharp."

Damian bowed his head.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sir?"<p>

Bruce sighed, tugging on his boots, before looking up at Alfred from where he sat. He bit his cheek, contemplating Alfred's question. "I'm sure it's an idea. A good one?" He tilted his head, "I'll let you know as soon as I do."

The older man tutted.

"Oh c'mon Alfred, what's that look for?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about Sir."

"_Alfred_."

The butler sighed, but relented to his charge. "The chances of Master Kent's reaction to the child being a good one are exceedingly thin."

"It'll be fine Alfred." Bruce felt as though he was trying to reassure himself more than his surrogate father.

"Very well Sir," Alfred sighed.

Bruce finished strapping on his last boot then pushed himself from his chair. Pulling on his cowl. "Don't worry Alfred, what could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

><p>Clark Kent was getting annoyed, and bored. Don't forget bored. There was only so much one could do on a freezing cold Metropolis rooftop at six o'clock at night.<p>

He paced back and forth, fiddling with a frayed hem of his cape. He'd told Bruce to meet him at six sharp. It was now six fifteen and Bats was still a no show. He'd give him till six twenty before-

"Superman."

Clark spun on his heels, "_Jesus_!"

Bruce leapt off the ledge of the neighbouring roof, out of the shadows, performing a complicated looking flip in the process, and landing beside the Kryptonian. The moonlight reflecting off the kevlar and cowl.

"_Can you stop doing that_!?" Clark whispered harshly. "If I was anyone else you would have killed me by heart attack by now."

"If you were anyone else we'd have no reason to meet on rooftops in shady parts of Metropolis in the middle of the night." Bruce felt the slight upturn of his lips and glanced behind him, Superman followed his gaze.

Clark released his loose grip on his cape at the sight before him. His jaw going slack before Bruce snapped "Kent!" at him to close it.

Damian glanced from Bruce to Clark, a little uncomfortable under the glare of the Kryptonian. "Superman, I presume."

Clark's brows nearly disappeared past his hairline. "Uh...yeah, hi."

Hi!? Was that really the best he could do? Come on Kent, get a grip!

His glare turned on Bruce.

"I'll explain later."

Clark wasn't having it. Metropolis wasn't in immediate danger, it could wait. "No. Watchtower. Now."

Before Bruce could protest, his much stronger friend had gripped him by his cape and contacted the League. Who zeta beamed them up in a matter of a few short seconds.

Sometimes Bruce really hated technology. Especially the stuff he designed for the League.

On the Watertower the zeta announced the arrival of Superman, Batman, and an unauthorised personnel with the flash of a light. Drawing the attention of the closest League members. Namely, Wally West and Kyle Rayner.

Wally looked up at the duo in surprise, green eyes wide with curiosity. It was rare that Supes and Bats fought. Everyone knew they were close, which was really saying something when it came to Bats. Though at the moment, Clark looked pissed. Red faced and all. The rarity of it made it all the more frighteningly interesting in Wally's opinion.

"What the hell Clark!?" Bruce growled, his temper rising. He'd been stressed all week, what with Damian and work and Gotham in general, and Clark really wasn't helping any.

"You have some explaining to do Bruce!" the Kryptonian shot back.

Wally could see the eye slits in the Bat's mask narrow threateningly. He didn't like that look. "I don't owe you a damn explanation for anything."

"You do when it involves this team." And there was Supes being all authoritative like he was prone to do, Wally observed.

Bruce seemed perplexed, "and how does Robin effect the League?"

And now it was Clark's turn to play the role of the confused one. "The rest of the Robin's have been members of the Titans," Clark began. "What reason have I to believe this one would be any differnt?"

"I am not joining your damn tag-tag team of freaks!"

"_Damian_!"

"_What_!?"

Wally and Kyle both winced at the Dark Knight's bark. Kyle didn't know the Batman as well as Wally, which led to the newest and youngest Green Lantern to where he was now. Practically hiding behind the Flash. Neither could believe this kid! Either he was incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid.

All Clark had wanted was an explanation as to why there was another Robin. All he wanted was to know who this kid was. And why the hell he looked so much like his best friend! Was that really so much to ask!?

Clark sighed, "just-"

"You asked me to come to Metropolis to help, who I bring with me shouldn't matter."

"It does when it's another child!"

"I am not a child!"

"Damian!"

"Father, I-!"

"Not now," he growled through clenched teeth.

By now a small crowed had gathered. Diana, J'onn, Ollie and a few others had joined Wally and Kyle in their open gapings. "Who's the kid?" Ollie whispered to Wally.

The speedster simply shrugged his red clad shoulders. "No idea, but Bat's is ripping him a new one." Wally felt for the kid, whoever he was. He'd been on the receiving end of the Bat's wrath as a kid. More than once. He and Dick both. Though in retrospect they pry deserved it. Back in the day you put Robin and Kid Flash together and trouble was destined to happen. He distinctly remembered Batman putting out a League wide PSA once when he was a kid, to not allow he and Dick unattended on the Tower under any circumstances. Oh what a week that was!

"Did he say 'father'?" Diana asked, thoroughly concerned. It was clearly written across her face.

Kyle and Ollie simply shrugged. The sounds of Superman and Batman bickering like school children playing in the foreground.

"Clark if you have to know this instant," Bruce started, throwing a sideways glance at the League members that had gathered. "Then isn't there someplace more private?"

Clark had the audacity to look a little shameful. He knew Bruce preferred to keep his business his business. The last thing he'd want is the whole of the League being privy to his personal affairs. He nodded, "right. Sorry, conference room B should be empty." He mumbled apologetically, "follow me."

Damian's jaw clenched in a way that Clark couldn't help but notice was distinctly, well, Bruce. He didn't seem to enthusiastic about following the two down the hall.

He kept shooting glances at the two older men. Causing Clark to squirm uncomfortably under the boy's gaze.

Bruce closed and locked the door behind them.

"Now let's do this properly," Clark started,straightening himself, "Clark Kent."

Damian took the proffered hand and shook it, albeit a bit hesitantly. All the while eyeballing the Kryptonian suspiciously. "Damian Wayne."

Clark straightened, his eyes landing on Bruce. Who'd removed the cowl. "And this is where the explaining comes in."

Bruce sighed. "I don't know what you wanna hear Clark, he's my son."

Clark opened his mouth, poised to speak-

"My biological son, yes."

...

"Clark?"

"Yeah, um..." He heaved a sigh, his head tilted towards the ceiling. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Well what do you want me to say!?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his kevlar clad chest.

"You want me to ask when this happened? Who the mother is? Why you didn't tell me!?" Clark sputtered, "because I thought you would have told me something like this."

"It happened six weeks ago. And I didn't tell you because, quite frankly, I've had a lot going on."

Damian rolled his eyes, kicking his feet back and forth and resting his chin in his hands as he sat at the large table in the middle of the room. He watched the two superheroes bickered. It was rather amusing actually. Certainly not what he expected out of this evening.

That sounded reasonable-ish. Clark supposed.

Clark dropped his voice, leaning in a little towards the Caped Crusader. "Is it Selina?"

"_What_!?" Bruce practically screeched at a surprisingly high voice for him especially. "_No_!"

Damian's brows rose. Who?

"No! It wasn't Salina. _Clark_-!"

"Sorry! Sorry," Clark held his hands out in surrender. "It was a reasonable guess."

Bruce shook his head and muttered to himself. "You're unbelievable, Kent."

"Then who...?"

"Talia."

Okay.

_Unexpected_.

Clark would swear he could literally feel his brain short circuit.

"Don't look at me like that," he reprimanded. "It was ten years ago!"

Damian's nails dug into the table top harshly. He hated when when mother was mentioned in conversation. He spoke of her as though he never cared for her. As though she didn't matter in the slightest. She raised him for ten years, cared for him for ten years. It was more than his 'father' had ever done for him.

No. He preferred Grayson over him. That damned gypsy orphan. He was the blood son, not Grayson!

Damian huffed, arms folding over his chest. Resembling the definition of a pouting, rotten child. "Father, I thought we had a job to do."

"We do."

Clark nodded, "right, sorry."

Bruce turned to his longtime friend and ally. With his back to his son, he spoke in a lowered voice. "It's fine Clark, I understand."

He spoke with such conviction in his tone that Clark could only blink. Was Bruce just... understanding?

Weird.

"So Metropolis..."

The two of them headed out of conference room B. Back to business.

With a grumpy ten year old assassin following closely behind.

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><p><strong>I don't know what happened here, but a lot of people just started showing up. And it's longer than the last chap so, um, you're welcome. Please review, thanks!<strong>


	15. Chapter 15: Robin To Watchtower

**Chapter 18: Robin to Watchtower**

**Dick age 14**

Dick could feel his heart racing in his chest, the rhythm echoing throughout his body and pounding away fiercely in his skull. He felt dizzy, as if he was going to be sick. Like there was a lump in his throat. He couldn't think straight, couldn't formulate proper thoughts.

The only thing running through his head was, _blood_.

_Blood everywhere_.

On the floor, on his suit, on his _hands_.

But who's blood?

_Batman!_

Dick felt panic course through his veins, wrapping its icy hand around his heart. And squeezing. He didn't want to look, he didn't think he could.

He lay flat on his belly, his head reeling, wen it all came crashing back to him.

They'd fought Two Face, Harvey Dent. And they had him too, until his goons showed up that is. There were more of them then there were of just he and Batman. Usually that wasn't a problem, not for them.

But Dent had leverage.

He had bombs.

Lots of them.

All over Gotham. Stationed and ready to blow if Dent so much as laid a slimy hand on the trigger.

So they played it safe, not willing to risk thousands of innocent lives.

It all went downhill from there.

Robin swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and began pushing himself off the grimy floor of the abandoned apartment complex. His head swam as he did so, causing his stomach to lurch uncomfortably.

Wrapping a hand securely around his middle, Dick turned to search for his mentor.

There he was, laying face down on the grimy floor. His face was deathly pale, his split and bloodied lips parted just ever so slightly.

_No_.

In his panic fuelled haste, Dick sprung forward. Only to come crashing back down, his arms and legs to weak to hold his weight. Dick let loose a miserable, pain filled groan, his arm outstretching and reaching for his mentor. He prodded Bruce's shoulder.

No response.

Dick drug himself nearer, he propped himself up and grabbed Bruce's arms and shook them. "C'mon B'man," he surprised himself by how weak and horse his voice sounded. "B'man, wake u'." He shook him again.

Nothing.

"Dad, wake up!" His voice cracked. He was all out begging now, but he couldn't care less. He tentatively checked for a pulse. It was there, but barely. Beating away at an erratic, uneven pace.

Dick shook Bruce's shoulder roughly. "Just wake up, please wake up." It was pointless, he knew. But his childish instincts took over, he just needed his father to open his eyes.

Dick unwillingly noticed just how much blood was on his hands. He flinched, throwing himself back as though the red liquid had burned him. It was all over, staining his pale skin.

It was Bruce's blood.

Dick felt his heart speeding up, his chest aching. He couldn't think straight.

His hands were shaking. He clenched them tightly against his chest.

_Calm down, calm down, calm down_!

"Agghhhh!" Dick's clenched fists met the kevlar clad chest plate of Batman's suit hard. "Just wake up damn it!" Dick took slow breathes, doing his best to calm himself.

Dick slowly raised his head, his blue eyes widening behind the whiteout lenses of his domino mask as a thought truck him.

The League.

He needed to contact the League.

Dick carefully unclenched his fists, his hands still shaking like mad. He gently reached across the unconscious body of his mentor, partner and father -careful not to jostle any wounds- to grab the communicator built into his right gauntlet.

"Th-this is Robin to Watchtower, respond Watchtower. Do you copy?"

Silence... and then-

"This is Superman, we copy."

Dick felt his heart skip a beat, it was as though a huge weight had been lifted from his small, trembling shoulders. "Superman!" the relief was evident in his voice. "It's Batman, he's been shot. We need transportation to the Tower. Now!"

"Hold tight, we'll zeta you up."

Dick waited as Superman confirmed their coordinates. It was less than a minute before he could feel the tingling sensation across his skin, his particles relocating themselves. He closed his eyes, his body giving into exhaustion. He lent forward, resting his head on Bruce's chest. His hand still gripping Bruce's left gauntlet tightly. "It's okay, you're gonna be okay."

* * *

><p>Robin's head was spinning, his throat hurt too. Where was he?<p>

Oh that's right, Watchtower. He and Bruce were -Bruce!

Dick shot forward with a jolt, sitting up in the uncomfortable medical bed. "What the-?"

"Easy, easy, easy!" There was suddenly a hand on his chest. Pushing him back down onto his back. Dick glared at the hand and followed the arm up to the face to which it was attached.

Wonder Woman.

"How are you feeling, Dick?" She asked, her expression one of deep concern and affection.

"Where's Batman?" He asked, ignoring the burn of his dry throat and her question.

"Sleeping I'd imagine," she shrugged. "We gave him some pretty heavy painkillers, he'll more than likely be out for some time."

"I need to see him," he declared. He attempted to sit back up, only for Diana to re-push him back down.

"What you need is rest."

"Auntie D," he wined. "I'm fine."

She fixed him with a pointed look. "You sustained a mild concussion a several deep lacerations to your arms and leg."

Dick paused, he hadn't even realised he'd been hurt. He must have gotten scratched up more than he realised when Harvey all but threw him through a wall.

"Is that Cheetah!?"

Diana's head spun around so fast, it was rather impressive really. But Dick was faster. He ripped the IV drip from his arm and leapt off the mattress. He was across the room and out the door before Wonder Woman herself knew it.

"Richard!"

Dick smirked, pleased with himself.

He sped down the hall of the medical bay, bypassing J'onn and Uncle Ollie, until he came to the only other room currently in use.

Bruce was cut off mid sentence as he found himself with a lap full of Robin. Dick's small arms wrapped tightly around Bruce's middle.

Clark smothered a smile in his hands, leaning back in his rather uncomfortable, plastic chair. He'd just have to speak with Bruce later.

Dick began to speak, though neither Bruce nor Clark could make out what he was saying.

Bruce quirked a single brow, "what was that Chum?"

"Mmmmph!"

Bruce rolled his eyes and unattached his son from himself, holding him at arms length. He felt as though his heart dropped to his stomach upon seeing the tears in his sterling blues.

"I- I thought..."

Bruce pulled him back in, holding him tightly. "I know, I know."

"Th- there was so much blood... I though that..."

"It's okay Dickie."

Thinking it best to leave them to it, Clark shimmied out the door. Giving the Bats the privacy he knew them to prefer.

"Are you alright?" Dick asked, sitting up and wiping his eyes before a tear could fall.

"I'm fine. A little beat up, but I'm fine," he said, gesturing to his busted lip and bandaged brow.

"You weren't," he said mirthlessly.

A somber look came over Bruce's face, "I know."

"Two Face shot at you but I thought he'd missed," the words tumbled out of Dick's mouth at seemingly their own will. "Until you didn't get up. I- I didn't know what to do, I just blanked. I-"

"You did fine."

"No," he shook his head, starting to tear up again. "No, you could have died because I blanked-"

"Richard."

Dick unwillingly looked up at him.

"You did perfect. I couldn't have asked for better."

Dick smiled diffidently.

It was near midnight when Clark returned to the room. He simply peaked through the door, a gentle smile gracing his lips at the sight before hime.

The two bats were fast asleep, entangled in each other's arms. Dick with his head tucked against Bruce's chest, Bruce with his arm wrapped tightly around him. A soft snore escaped the Batman's lips with every exhale.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review and pitch ideas for future chapters!<strong>


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